


It Lingers Here, This Haunting Nightmare

by Sethrine



Series: It Lingers Here [2]
Category: Markiplier (YouTube RPF), Youtube RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Language, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mental Instability, Psychological Horror, Psychological Torture, dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:01:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4145655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sethrine/pseuds/Sethrine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You couldn't remember what happened, but that was okay. You were okay, really, and Mark was there to help you in your recovery.</p><p>But the damage isn't over. The mind is a fragile place, full of fears waiting to be unleashed, and boy, were you afraid....</p><p>Remembering becomes half the battle, as you're thrust within your own mind to figure out just what exactly happened to you and why exactly you can't move on. Memories are lost, and the fear continues to grow.</p><p>It lingers...<i>he</i> lingers...don't let him consume you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, you guys! I'm super proud to say that I've worked incredibly hard on this story and hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it!
> 
> First off, I'd like to dedicat this piece to the very talented, very sweet **Devils6Details** , as her amazing fic **Get Out Alive** is what inspired me to write this. It's an absolutely amazing work, and I highly recommend you go read it, if you haven't already.
> 
> Also wanna give a shoutout to my dear cousin, **NightIris** , who is my constant support in my writing process. Couldn't have gotten this far without her!
> 
>  
> 
> Now, onto the fic! If you haven't read When Skies Are Grey, it's not necessary, but it does highlight some things that have happened and will be mentioned in this fic.

The half-a-dozen roses sitting on the table beside you were such a lovely shade of purple, a soft lilac that was normally hard to find. They were still tightly furled buds surrounded by a handful of baby's breath, though their size alone promised for big blooms as the days progressed, and their light fragrance would soon permeate the air. 

They were a small gesture of love, one that had a tendency of filling your heart to bursting with such tender joy that you couldn't help but smile like a loon. It never ceased to amaze you, all the sweet and creative things Mark thought up to get you to smile. 

"When did you get the flowers? They're lovely, as always," you called out just as Mark was making his way from the kitchen, a bowl of, undoubtedly, your favorite icecream in his hands. 

He gave a slow, deliberately sneaky smile as he rounded the couch and carefully handed over the sweet treat before plopping down beside you. 

"This morning, actually, before I picked you up." 

"This morning? No one else has the purple ones like that little flower stand a few blocks away, and they're closed on Sundays. How on earth did you get them?" 

"Let's just say, I got connections," he answered, his voice changing to that of a 1920s gangster from Brooklyn. His hands even got involved as if moving them in just the right way made the accent that much more convincing. 

"I gots Tony, you see, owes me a favor, so's I calls 'im up. The rest, eh, you don't needa know." 

You laughed around a spoonful of creamy goodness, only wincing slightly at the jarring motion to your head injury. Though it was an easily abated pain, Mark visibly cringed at your discomfort, looking you over carefully for any other signs of distress. The light mood was now replaced with a somber reminder of what had happened just a few days previous. 

"How's your head?" 

"Could be worse," you answered as you reached up to gently prod at the large patch of bandaging hiding a neat line of twelve stitches from view. 

"Honestly, though, I'm fine. This is nothing compared to that broken ankle I had in middle school. Now _that_ was hell on earth." 

Mark gave a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, even at your persistent optimism. Of course, he was upset. Honestly, if he was in your position, you would be, too. 

"Mark, really, I'm okay. No headache, no major pains, just a dull ache from a healing wound and a few sore muscles. I might as well have suffered a bee sting, at this point." 

He seemed to almost scoff at the notion of your injuries being related to something so minor. You frowned at this, and he gave an aggravated huff as a hand came up to card through his fluffy mess of hair. 

"I just...I wish I knew what happened, you know? I keep thinking maybe I could have prevented it, or at least gotten to you sooner. You lost nearly two weeks worth of memory, and that just...damnit, it gets to me, knowing it could have been worse." 

He gave you a look, one of _those_ looks, and instantly your heart felt like it was going to break in two. It was so very rare to see Mark as anything but a kind, loveable, boundlessly energetic man with a hilarious quip at the ready and a determination that could hype up nearly anyone. Knowing that he was currently hurting emotionally because of something he had no control over made you hurt, as well. 

Icecream abandoned on the coffee table, you reached out to Mark and beckoned him closer. He came willingly, if not a bit hesitant at the thought of bumping any lingering bruises. His arms, however, wound their way around you in a gentle embrace, and the motion made you smile. 

He took a deep, steadying breath against your shoulder, now more grounded than he had been on his own. He had been your support during your four-night stay at the hospital; it was your turn to support him in his time of weakness, to be the beacon of light you saw in him each and every day for this one rare moment of darkness. 

You stayed like that for several long minutes, him breathing against you as you gently rubbed your hand down his back over and over again. It was a similar motion he used with you on days you felt your worst, providing both physical and emotional comfort that you so desperately needed in those moments. The positions had been reversed, however, and it was now your turn to provide comfort in the best manner you knew how. 

"I'm not going anywhere, you know. You can't get rid of me that easily." 

"Gee, and here I thought I was doing a marvellous job at it," Mark droned in a sarcastic muffle against you, yet you could here the amusement coming back to life in his voice. 

"Such a fantastic job," you continued on with a mocking lilt while threading your fingers through his hair, "with taking care of me, buying me flowers, bringing me icecream, which is melting, by the way." 

"Surely that'll get rid of you once and for all. No one likes soupy icecream." 

"Joke's on you, then, 'cause I don't mind soupy icecream. Add some milk, and you've got yourself a milkshake." 

"Damn, foiled again! Guess I'll have to try harder next time." 

When he finally pulled back, it was with a smile, one that you were easily able to mirror, almost stupidly so. God, but this man made you feel so at peace with yourself, even when your world was at the point of crumbling apart. 

"I _am_ sorry about your icecream, though," he said while eyeing the goopy mess left in the bowl. There was still a portion that hadn't completely melted, like an island surrounded by an ocean filled with chocolate swirls. 

"I can always get more later. I'm actually kinda tired, if you can believe that. As much as I slept in the hospital, you'd think I'd have energy for days." 

"At least here, you'll get _good_ sleep without nurses prodding at you every few hours," Mark commented while snatching up the bowl and standing. He paused a moment, looking at you with an expression you couldn't quite place, before swooping down and planting a lingering kiss to the part of your forehead not covered in pristine white bandages. 

"I'm so glad you're home," he mused before heading for the kitchen, leaving you with an unbelievably dorky smile and a faint dusting of red on your cheeks. 

For the next couple of hours, you lazed about the apartment, Mark all but demanding you do nothing but rest. As tired as you felt, you weren't quite ready for sleep and found that Mark's company was more than enough to keep you entertained between bouts of comfortable silence. 

At one point, you both moved upstairs to Mark's recording room where he proceeded to show you some of the thoughtful things his fans had been writing to you. You had seen a few from your phone while you were in the hospital as well as the few Mark had shown you, but you had no idea how wide-spread their kindness had grown. There were so many "Get Well Soon" tweets, so many cute little fanarts of both you and Mark as well as short instagram and youtube videos of others voicing their concerns and prayers for a full recovery. 

It was astounding, his fanbase, and how such a large group of people could come together and use their voices and words and talents for good. Mark had a way of bringing out the best in people, and those people, in turn, only encouraged Mark to be even better. A never-ending chain of love and togetherness in a community that never stopped surprising you with their efforts to be the best they could be. 

"Can we make a video to let them know I'm doing alright? I just...I wanna thank them all so much," you said almost awkwardly, though Mark's smile was enough to ease you into the idea even more. 

Youtube was not something you did often. You had your own channel, but more to keep up with others you subscribed to and less for making your own videos. You'd been in several of Mark's own, even having went through an entire indie horror series with him a few months back, much to the enjoyment of his fanbase, but it just wasn't something you had picked up on very well. You were still trying, though, and you were becoming a bit more comfortable as time passed. 

Mark was also a fantastic support system, always giving you pointers and helping ease you out of whatever concerns you had about messing up his recordings, of which he was adament it wasn't possible. 

"Sure! Just let me get everything going, and we'll be ready to roll!" 

It took no time at all for him to get his set up ready, the motions so practiced by now it might as well have been second nature. Before long, Mark was staring into the camera, giving a goofy grin and wave as he began his normal vlog greeting. 

"You may have noticed that I'm back at my apartment, and this time, I was able to bring my lovely girlfriend home with me from the hospital. As you can see, she's doing just fine; a few bumps and bruises, but my girl's a trooper! She actually wanted to personally, well, as personally as we're able to, tell you guys what's been going on. So, yeah, you wanna take it from here?" 

He looked back to you with a questioning raise of his brow, the motion showing more concern at your slight hesitance. It disappeared once you gave a small smile and nod of your head, directing your attention to the camera and willing your frazzled nerves to chill. 

"Hey, you guys. I just wanted to let you all know how thankful I am for all the kind words and well-wishes that were sent my way while I was in the hospital-" 

You continued on for a good few minutes, explaining where you had been and what injuries you had sustained. You even talked briefly about how you lost a small section of memory, roughly two weeks, as well as not remembering exactly what happened. All the while, Mark held tight to your hand, his fingers threaded with yours as you talked, a comforting weight that urged you on. 

When you were finished speaking, it was with happy tears in your eyes and an embarassed bow of your head as you looked away from the camera. Mark took that as his cue to continue and give his own thanks as well as express how utterly amazed he was at everyone's support. Not long after, he ended the video with another heartfelt thank you and his normal closing outro of goodbyes before turning off the camera and facing you, practically beaming. 

"I'd say you handled that like a pro." 

You laughed lightly, still attempting to dry your eyes and silence your sniffles. 

"Barely, but I got it out, anyways, without seeming like a total dork." 

"But you're like, the adorable kind of dork. The cutest of dorks. Everyone loves you!" 

Again, you laughed, finding it much easier to smile without tears threatening to spill down your cheeks again. 

There was a comfortable silence that fell between you then, you taking particular interest in your hand joined with Mark's own as he gazed at you for a long moment in a serene sort of way. 

"Why don't you go get some sleep? I know you're exhausted. Just let me get this video up, and I'll be in there in a jiffy." 

"Yes, sir," you gave with a mock salute, causing Mark to grin. 

"Hey, now, I'll have none of your sass, young lady!" 

"Fair enough, but I fully expect to be tucked into bed first thing you're finished, since I'm...what did you say earlier? That's right, _oh, so fragile and delicate_ , or something to that extent." 

"Yes, ma'am," Mark sent you off with his own mocking salute, "I'll be sure to tuck you in super tight!" 

You stood with a small chuckle, disentangling your fingers from his own and making your way out. Just as you cleared the doorway, however, you were stopped by Mark's voice once more, so sincerely sweet as he spoke. 

"I love you, you know that, right?" 

Your heart practically seized in your chest at the words and how surely they were said. It wasn't often he spoke them, but it wasn't from a lack of wanting to. If anything, he didn't say them as a favor to you. 

"Of course...yes, of course I know that," you stammered, staring back at him with an almost horrified expression, unable to get out anything proper to respond. Damnit, why couldn't you just say the words?! 

Your hesitation didn't seem to bother Mark this time, who was smiling serenely up at you from his desk chair. 

"Good. Don't you forget it. I'll be right there as soon as I'm done." 

Taking that as a dismissal, you gave a quick nod and practically bolted into the bedroom, releasing the breath you hadn't realized you were holding. 

Despite the tense feeling of what had just transpired, you found the motions of getting ready for bed to be quick and easy to manage, brushing your teeth and changing into your night clothes with minimal difficulty. Your bandages were still fresh and could be replaced in the morning, much to your relief. 

You were planning on waiting for Mark to join you before dozing off, even thinking up ways you could apologize for...well, for being yourself, really, but lying in your bed after four nights in one at the hospital had you more relaxed than you anticipated. Your eyes were already heavy, your sore muscles surrounded by soft bedsheets and a comfortable pillow-top matress practically melting further into the comfortable surroundings. 

Within moments, you were sound asleep, falling deep, deep, deeper into the land of dreams....


	2. Rose Garden of Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day early on my part, but I was already looking it over for any final edits and was like, what the hey, I'll go ahead and post it!

Waking up was much easier than it should have been; there was no gentle drift into being awake, nor did you have a knee-jerk reaction into wakefulness. There was only a sudden alertness to your being as if you had never been asleep at all, as if such a thing was never even a possibility. The feeling was made even more odd by the fact that you were no longer in bed, but standing beside it without the faintest memory of having gotten up in the first place. The blankets were pulled taunt across the mattress as if they had never been pulled back, like you'd never climbed into bed at all; that alone should have sent off warning bells in your mind. 

You looked around the bedroom to find everything else, for the most part, seemed to be in place. Even the lamp was still on, just as you had left it for when Mark decided to join you. He usually turned it off when he finished his nightly routine.... 

Wait, had he not come to bed? 

Quietly, you made your way across the room and reached for the door, fully intent on finding out what had been keeping him away for so long. Instead, you were stopped in your tracks at the doorway, perplexed at what you saw. 

Before you, there was a long stretch of hallway, much longer than you remember it being. On either side, there were two doors spaced roughly fifteen feet apart, and at the end, there was yet another where you distinctly remember the spiral staircase should have been. The area was cast in dark, swaying shadows, though there were no objects to cast them or misplaced light sources to give off such an illusion. They moved of their own accord, slow and hauntingly graceful with such a large expanse of space to traverse. 

"Hello?" 

Your voice carried down the hall with a slight echo despite how quietly you had spoken. Even so, all remained silent, and the shadows continued their dance against the walls. 

The first step out into the hallway was hesitant, unsure if the peace would be kept with your presence, even with your hushed footsteps against the carpet. When all remained the same, you continued forward to the door on your right where you gave the handle a slow turn and tug. 

It was locked. 

You gave the doorknob a few more twists and jiggles, though found no success in your actions. Puzzled, you turned to the door that was on the left, just across the way, and attempted to open it. You were met with the same resistance as before; yet another locked room. 

Well, that was a bit strange. All of this was a bit strange, really, and the realization that _this isn't right, (Y/N), come on, now_ began to sink in. 

There was an audible _click_ from off to the side, and when you turned, it was to the sight of the door at the very end opening inward by just a hair. Almost immediately, the smell of flowers in full bloom filled the space, enticing and sweet, beckoning you to enter. 

You slowly made your way further down the hall and pushed the door open fully, awe-struck and a little confused at what you were seeing. 

The room itself wasn't a room at all. In fact, you might as well have just opened the door to the outside, as instead of a white ceiling above you and the limited barrier of four white walls, there was nothing but the vast expanse of the night sky and ample vegitation. The area was covered with lush plants and flowers alike, all illuminated by their own unnaturally beautiful glow. They formed a lighted path that spiraled forward, though despite their self-illumination, you could not see very far ahead. 

Curiosity was quickly getting the better of you, yet before you stepped foot in the room, you found yourself looking behind you at the too-long hallway lined with locked doors and swaying shadows. Everything was starting to come together, pieces of a puzzle that were finally connecting and taking form in you mind. It was a slow connection, and one many never really made, but somehow it just clicked- 

You were dreaming. 

Of _course_ you were dreaming, (Y/N), come on, now. The lack of Mark, too many rooms for a small apartment to handle, and a seemingly endless garden of flowers, complete with a night sky, in the room just down the hall from your own... How had you not pieced it together before that moment? It explained the strange sensation of tirelessness you had, the niggling in the back of your mind that things weren't quite right, the reason you hadn't full-out panicked at the strange differences all around you. 

So, you were dreaming, more aware than you'd ever been in any other dream before. Did that mean you had somehow accidentally become lucid within your own personal dreamworld? Definitely not an uncommon prospect, though you'd never been able to do such a thing before, nor had you ever attempted. Lucid dreaming was only possible through training and had to be done under certain conditions, or so you thought. Yet here you were, completely conscious of what was happening. 

Now that you were aware, maybe you could actually try to wake yourself up, get out of this weirdness and maybe fall back asleep on a better note- 

_**(Y/N)...hey, (Y/N)!**_

"Hello?" you called out suddenly, stepping further into the room on impulse. With the motion came the sound of the door shutting firmly behind you, and when you turned at the noise, it was to the sight of more illuminated plants, more darkness and endless night sky. The door was gone; it was as if it had never been there in the first place. 

_**(Y/N).... ******_

Your stomach gave a sort of flip at the call of your name. It was definitely a man's voice, you were almost sure of it, though it was the way it was spoken, so very quiet with a static quality that it could easily be mistaken for the wind rattling through the treetops, that had you somewhat on edge. 

With trepidation, you started to journey onward, following the lighted path of flowered plants that paved the way. For a while, you walked on, and with each step forward, more of the short, grassy path was revealed to you, though it was never lit more than a few yards ahead. Similarly, the path behind you would disappear into the darkness. It was like you were under your own spotlight that followed you as you moved, though as to who or what was controlling it, you did not know, nor were you entirely sure you wanted to. 

There was a point, you noticed, where the light did begin to expand further outward, and as you neared what could only be your destination, a flash of color lit up the darkness to reveal tall, neatly trimmed hedges that branched off to either side, marble pillars lining the endless mass of leaves. There was a large opening with a towering archway outlining it, vines hanging from the fixture like drapes. Beyond that, there looked to be a beautiful water fountain carved from a similar marble as the arch, and surrounding it were colorful bushes of roses, their heady scent overcoming that of the flowers that had led you there. 

You brushed past the curtain of vines to have a better look at the garden, amazed to find that even the roses had their own source of light, each perfect bloom shimmering softly like lights on a Christmas tree. There were pinks and blues in varying shades, yellows and white and orange, as well, all shining brightly against the lush green leaves like glittering gemstones. 

"Simply intoxicating, isn't it?" 

You jumped at the voice, turning abruptly to find Mark leaning against the archway, a fully bloomed, lilac colored rose in his hand. 

"Mark! God, you scared me," you said in a rush, smiling as he looked up at you and began to move closer. He was smiling, too, but something about his stance, the way he walked, even the look in his eyes, it just...well, maybe it was the way your dream had conjured him up. 

"Where are we?" you asked while giving another look around. "I don't think I've been here before." 

"It's only one of the biggest places in your mind, but I'm not surprised this is your first visit. I like to think of it as the Memory Core." 

"Memory Core?" 

"Everyone has one. All of them are different, tapered to each individual based on their collective interests. Yours happens to be a garden of roses." 

Well, that made a bit of sense, you supposed. After all, memories had to be stored somewhere within the brain, right? It was like a filing cabinet, only this one was suited to your individuality. 

"Oh, I get it. The garden is basically my memory." 

"Collectively, yes. The garden acts as a hub, with each rose representing a single memory. Right now, we're standing in the middle of the hub." 

You glanced around at all the different roses with curious wonder. "Why are they all different colors?" 

"It's your mind's way of separating certain memories as a means of organization. The white ones are your generic, every-day memories, and the yellow are ones with your family. The other colored ones are memories you've unknowingly assigned to certain people." 

"Oh, so like, color-coded memories with people I know? Kinda like tabs in a portfolio, I suppose." 

"Exactly. See? Already getting the hang of it." 

You gave a single nod and a small grin at the praise, glancing down at the soft purple rose still in his hand. 

"How do you know so much about this place?" you questioned curiously, receiving a grin that bordered on a smirk. 

"Well, I seem to be here quite a lot, nowadays. As it stands, you practically have your own area of memories dedicated to ol' Markimoo." 

You flushed just slightly, realizing the possibility that you had quite a few fond memories with Mark. He'd been in your life all of four years now, two of which you were dating. To say he had taken a comfortable spot within your mind was, well, a bit of an understatement. 

"Is that one of them?" 

Mark looked down briefly at the flower before extending his hand in offering. 

"Go ahead, take a look." 

Wide-eyed, you carefully reached out and took the thornless rose from his hand at the base of the flower, giving Mark a credulous look. All he did was nod, gesturing for you to look down into the petals. You did so, and almost instantly, you were taken back to a day you remembered all-too well, your stomach filling with butterflies and your heart beating ever faster as the memory played out. 

It was the first time Mark had ever kissed you. The moment had been so spontaneous and unexpected, and so very much _him_ that it remained to be one of your fondest moments. 

He had asked you a question, some off-the-wall sort of thing about one of your favorite television shows. It got you super animated as you answered, hands flailing about and face surely contorting into extreme expressions as you'd practically fangirled about the series. He'd had the most amazed look on his own face as you prattled on, and before you could even register what had suddenly changed the situation, he was kissing you, so sweet and gentle and, quite effectively, silencing your rambling answer to his question. 

_"What was that?" _you'd asked, too stunned to say much more as he practically beamed at you.__

_"A physical form of endearment, I do believe. Also, that was probably the most animated I've seen you over anything, and it was...that was adorable. You're adorable."_

The scene played out like a movie before you, the rose acting as a tiny screen within the palm of your hand as the memory continued and eventually looped back to the beginning. You couldn't help the feeling of warmth that filled your chest near to bursting. 

"I remember this. It's probably one of my favorite memories of us," you mused fondly, fingers lightly grazing the soft petals before you looked back up at Mark. 

He was staring intently at the rose in your hand. A frown came to your lips at the way he was just...fixated on the bloom. His expression was much more serious than it had been previously, though it was the way it showed on his face that had you instantly restless and uneasy. Upon gazing back down, you realized why. 

The memory was now stuttering and skipping as it played, parts filling with static while other places began to distort in a gruesome fashion. It was such a drastic change, you barely had time to register what was going on before the whole scene went black and disappeared. Even the petals had changed, the once beautiful color darkening and fading out just as the memory had. 

In your hand now was nothing more than a simple crimson rose. 

Immediately, you released the flower from your grasp as if it had burned you and backed away, heart stuttering with your sharp inhale. 

"What the hell just happened?" 

"Oh, well, that's no good," Mark commented liltingly, ignoring your question in favor of picking up the newly changed rose, studying it haphazardly while twirling the stem between the pads of his fingers. 

"Mark, what happened to it? Why's it...why is it red? It wasn't red before." 

"Did you notice that none of the roses in your garden are red? Why is that?" 

"You know why," you said carefully, eyeing Mark as he fixed his gaze on you, staring you down intently. It was on the verge of becoming unsettling, his gaze. The way his eyes gleamed...it was almost like they were changing. 

"Ah, that's right, you don't like them. They remind you of that day. They remind you of _him_ , don't they?" 

"Mark, this isn't funny." 

"Who said I was trying to be?" 

You stared at the man before you in horrified disbelief. It wasn't like him at all to bring up such a sensitive subject without carefully easing into it or asking if it was okay. If you didn't know any better, you'd go so far as to say he'd just lost his damn mind- 

"Who, exactly, is losing their mind, here?" 

The nerves along your scalp prickled unpleasantly at his words. 

"How did you-" 

"I don't know if you've already forgotten, but we're literally in your mind, right now. You're losing it, and you don't even have a clue. Goodness, this is almost too easy!" 

Mark held up the rose, taking carefully precise steps toward you. In turn, you began to take shaky, faultering steps backward to avoid his closeness. 

"This memory, as we speak, is slowly being eaten away, consumed by your unraveling mind by the very things you hate, the things you _fear_. That fall must have done a number on you, to trigger such an event as this." 

You gave a sudden wince as a white-hot pain shot through your head, your hand instantly pressing against the source of it at your forehead. Your palm met with a wet heat, the feeling slick and viscous. Pulling away, you looked down at your hand, horrified to find it covered in blood, _your_ blood. 

"Wh-wha...what happened? What happened to me?" 

Mark's only reply was to smile, though it wasn't his normal grin. No, this smile was much too wide, too eerie a look for him to carry on for so long. His eyes, once a lovely brown color, were now much darker, more black and sinister. 

This wasn't Mark...this couldn't be Mark. Your mind was playing such awful tricks on you. 

"Mark, stop, you're scaring me-" 

"Would you like to play a game, (Y/N)? You know how much I love games." 

"Just stop it!" 

"Listen well, or you'll lose before it's barely even started, silly. Fear is your enemy; it will consume everything in its path and leave behind what you hate most, this physical form of all that you're afraid of." 

He looked down briefly at the red rose he held before looking back to you. 

"If you want to save your memories, you gotta find them, or your fear will take over. We wouldn't want this lovely place of yours to just fade away, now would we? It would be a shame to lose control over something so beautiful so quickly. No, I'd much rather have you unravel slowly at the seams." 

You continued to back away as quickly as your trembling legs allowed even as his pace remained the same, eyes wide as saucers as Mark continued to stare you down. His words echoed dangerously in your ears, made you shudder at what they could possibly imply. 

Things had spiraled out of your control all too quickly. What you had thought was going to be a pleasant dream, one you were aware of, no less, was a nightmare in disguise, twisted and playing on your simplest of fears. 

"I don't want to play," you choked out, words stuttering as anxiety spread through your body like wildfire. 

"I...I won't play this game!" 

You turned quickly, intent on making a hasty retreat while you still had the chance. You nearly screamed when, instead, you came face-to-face with Mark, his expression haughty and vile. 

"You're already playing, my dear. You have no choice, never did. But, for the sake of good sportsmanship, I'll give you some time to mull this over. I can't have you giving up so soon, not when this game has so much potential." 

Slowly, his lips curled upward into a satisfied grin, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. 

"Now, time for you to... _WAKE UP!_ " 

You audibly gasped as you shot up from your comatose position, frantically looking around the room. The sun was just beginning to peek in through the curtains, casting thin neon strings of orangy-red and yellow light against the bedroom walls. All was relatively quiet, the only sound being your labored breaths and the hard thrum of your heart in your ears as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. 

Beside you, Mark stirred from his sleep, his bleary, unfocused eyes finding your upright position. 

"Hey, hey, you alright?" he called out quietly, sitting up beside you and reaching to run a hand down your arm. The motion was soothing, a much needed comfort after what you had experienced in your sleep. 

"Yeah, I think so." 

"S'not your head, is it?" 

Panicked, you reached up to the injury still present on your forehead, meeting resistance from the soft bandage placed over it. No pain, no blood. 

"No! No, I'm fine, I just...I had a dream, I think. It was good, weird, and then it was bad-" 

"Come here," he rasped sleepily, and you were willingly pulled closer and fell back into a comfortable position with him, his arms snaking around you and his head perching above yours on the pillow. You clung to his shirt as he kissed the top of your head, finding your breaths evening with the comfort of having him close. 

No more was said, nor did it need saying at that moment. It was still too early to worry about such troublesome dreams, and Mark knew you well enough to know what you needed most at that moment was his presence more than anything. 

This time, it was enough to keep away the dreams and any lingering fears.


	3. Remember, Remember

"Wow, this is really getting to you, isn't it?" 

You looked up, not having realized you'd been staring at the dining table for a solid five minutes, to find Mark eyeing you with concern. 

He was right, of course. The dream last night had you shaken in ways you really couldn't explain. What's more, you couldn't exactly remember _why_. You could barely remember anything at all, in fact, other than the sound of Mark's voice and the heavy scent of roses all around. Then again, it could have just been the roses on the coffee table clouding your thoughts, their petals having unfurled since yesterday and creating a light aroma in the living room area. 

In any case, you were well and truly bothered by whatever your dreams had depicted, enough to keep you somewhat frazzled and preoccupied with trying to remember exactly what you had seen and heard during your time of rest. It was enough of a change in your demeanor to worry Mark, and that was the last thing you wanted to do, especially when his schedule was usually so hectic. 

"I'm sorry, I just...wish I knew why I feel so anxious about it. I've had worse dreams, I know, but this one...I can't explain it. I just want to remember. Everything." 

You found Mark's eyes with your own, knowing almost instantly that he understood. You weren't just talking about the dream this time. 

There was still so much you didn't know about the accident that put you in the hospital. Hell, you couldn't recall what you were doing weeks before that day, either, but to be in the dark of something that could have very well been so much worse was something that didn't sit well with you. What little you did know was from Mark, himself, and he had found you after the fact. 

He had been out getting some necessities while you stayed behind at the apartment, apparently busy with laundry and planning out your workload for the rest of the week as you were oft to do. At some point, he called to see if there was anything else you needed, yet you never answered your phone. It wasn't a big deal, really, especially since you were busy with work stuff, and he'd brushed it off as you concentrating on that. 

When he made it home, however, it was to the sight of your sprawled body on the floor, unconscious and bleeding from a large gash on your head. There wasn't a sign of struggle, nor a clear sign of what exactly had transpired right before, but it looked like you had somehow fallen and hit your head hard against something, perhaps the coffee table. 

He'd tried calling your name, even patting you on the face, giving your shoulders a small shake all while trying to stop the bleeding, but for him, you would not wake up. Even the paramedics could not rouse you from your comatose state, and Mark confessed he had never been so panicked before in his life. 

Not a single horror game, he admitted, had ever terrified him as much as that moment, finding you near lifeless on the floor. 

You could only imagine- no, you _knew_ firsthand his panic of finding you in such a way, his fear of not knowing the extent of your injuries or if you would even wake up. You'd lived it, over three years ago in the middle of a cold, unforgiving November. 

"I know," Mark spoke gently, reaching out to give your hand a squeeze. "I want to know what happened just as badly as you do. But if you never regain those two weeks, I'm at least grateful I found you when I did." 

He smiled then, one you reciprocated easily, though it felt more like a grimace on your part. 

"I've made a complete mess of this afternoon, haven't I?" 

"What? No, nonsense! The day is still young and vibrant, so let us be the hermits we truly are and stay indoors!" 

Mark stood from the table with a determined set in his stance, moving to the living room with a silly strut. You followed him after a moment, watching as he pulled a plastic bag out from beneath the coffee table. Inside, there were at least ten to fifteen dvds, all still wrapped in their clear film casings and sporting a clearance sticker at the front corners. 

"We got more than a day's worth of movie watching right here, baby, so let's get to it!" 

It sounded really nice, actually. A movie marathon, a big pizza or chinese for dinner, just a lazy day to enjoy with Mark and forget all about your troubling thoughts. Life tended to get in the way of such pleasantries, however, especially as of late. 

"Don't you have more recording to do, though? I know you said today was your "off" day, but you didn't do much editing this morning, and I'd hate to keep you from getting your videos out again." 

"Don't worry about it, I've got it covered," he assured as he rummaged through the plastic bag, pulling out one of the dvds with a triumphant grin. 

"Is that...Men in Black?" you asked almost excitedly, peering closer at the cover and discovering that, yes, it was. You hadn't seen the film in ages, but it was one of your favorites. 

"You bet your sweet patooty, it is! Also got the second one, a few stand-up comedy dvds, Stay Alive...a few others that looked interesting. I'll just pop this in, and then we can get our snuggle on!" 

You laughed lightly as Mark's voice dropped a few octaves, his brows wiggling almost suggestively. True to his word, he unwrapped the dvd and placed it in the player before grabbing all the necessary remotes and plopping down in the furthermost corner. He then beckoned you to him by outstretching his arms and moving his hands in a "come hither" motion. 

"Cuddles are mandatory-" 

"-and groping is optional," you finished with a coy smile, causing Mark to laugh at your inside joke. You then took his invitation and positioned yourself right against him, leaning into his side as his arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you close. 

It wasn't often you both had time to yourselves like this. Mark was constantly busy and on the go when it came to making new videos for his channel, and with you working during the weekdays, it felt like you could never catch a break. The moment was a rare opportunity to bask in each other's company, made possible by a freak accident and doctor's orders for another week off of work for you. Despite the circumstances that led to it, you were happy to have this day with Mark. 

The hours ticked by as you went through the bag of dvds, taking ample breaks between and sometimes during to talk and laugh and, at one point, chase each other around the room. Dinner consisted of a large pizza, half to your specification, half to his, and dessert was a package of chocolate chip cookies you had no idea you'd been craving until you saw them. It was definitely a day of relaxing fun, and you enjoyed it immensely. 

Around the fifth movie, and well past midnight, you came to the realization that, despite having done nothing of great physical value, you were well and truly tuckered out. Mark wasn't faring any better, especially since you'd both shifted to laying on the couch nearly an hour before, your back to Mark's front. He'd been playing with your hair at one point, you remember, though you must have dozed off for a minute and found he had shifted once again to more comfortably drape his arm across your waist. 

"I think, maybe, after this one, we'll call it a night," Mark mumbled sleepily against your ear, your eyes popping open at the sound of his voice so close. You gave a tired yawn and a nod of your head, once again focusing somewhat bleary eyes on the horror film you'd chosen. It was a decent movie, really, and just now getting to the really good parts, but you were just so exhausted.... 

When you opened your eyes again, it was to the sight of your bedroom, lit up by the lamp on the bedside table. You were suddenly wide awake as if you hadn't just been asleep, aware that something didn't feel quite right about the room. 

You stood from the bed and swiftly made your way to the door, opening it with a flourish to find a long hallway, two doors on each side. 

Like a ton of bricks, the memory of your last dream hit you hard, and you faultered at the tightness in your chest, the sinking feeling in your stomach doing nothing to help. It took a moment to regain your suddenly lost breath, even longer to pull yourself together. 

This was not happening. This was _not_ happening! 

You looked down the hall again, recalling the dream from the night before with the thought that something didn't look quite right. There had been a door at the end of the hallway, the room that held your Memory Core, or whatever it was called. For whatever reason, it was no longer there, and you weren't sure if that was a good sign or a bad one. 

You reached a hand up to run through your hair in a nervous gesture, your eyes darting between the four doors presented to you. 

_"Would you like to play a game, (Y/N)? You know how much I love games."_

Shudders ran up your spine at the memory of those words. It was hard now to forget how they sounded, how ominous Mark -was it really Mark, though?- had sounded saying them. A game, he had inquired. This wasn't a game, at least not one you wanted to willingly play along in. Once again, you'd been thrust into this place, and again you wondered if you could force yourself to wake up before everything turned into a nightmare. 

There was a clicking sound that echoed from your right, the light tick unexpected. You startled at the noise, taking a moment longer than you'd like to admit to realize it was the first door unlocking. A frustrated huff left you then, and why wouldn't it? You were already so worked up over this stupid dreamworld, anxious and anticipating the worst, and nothing had even happened yet. 

_Yet_ was the key word, however, and no matter how much preparing you could possibly do within the seemingly safe confines of your dreamscape bedroom, there was a foreboding feeling in the back of your mind that said it just wouldn't be enough. 

You had a brief thought on just staying in the bedroom, basically refusing to play along with this sinister version of Mark who insisted on your participation. Would he even know? Would this _game_ continue without you, or would it even begin if you refused to move forward? What if refusing to go along with it all meant you'd lose every memory, just like that one of...that one, from in the Memory Core, where.... 

Oh God, you couldn't remember. Why couldn't you _remember?!_

**_Don't leave him, he needs you._**

Perplexed, you turned swiftly on your feet, looking around you for the source of whoever had just spoken. It sounded awfully close, almost like it was spoken softly in your ear. 

Great, now you were hearing voices again, just like the one that had coerced you through that first door into the memory room. This time, there was no wind to confuse the distorted whisper to. This time, it was all in your head, a faint murmur of words only you could hear. Maybe it was like that last time, too, only you hadn't realized it until now. 

"Okay, (Y/N), get it together," you muttered under your breath, shaking the jittery feeling from your hands at your sides and taking a few deep breaths, in and out, in and out. It wouldn't do to have a panic attack at the start of all this craziness foing on. Whether you wanted to or not -and it was definitely a _not_ on your part-, you were going through that door. You'd get through this, you would. You had to, after all, if you wanted to keep your memories intact. 

Stepping to your right, you steeled yourself and reached for the handle, your hand feeling clammy against the cool metal as you twisted it and pushed the door open. From the last time you'd entered one of these rooms, it should have been expected, but what you saw was not what you anticipated in the least. 

Before you stretched yet another impossibly long hallway, though this one reached into what appeared to be a hospital setting. The walls were interchanging patterns of powdery blue and white with a darker trim along the top and bottom borders. Every so many feet, doors with room numbers beside them lined the walls, as did a few rumpled looking gurneys. 

Already, the hairs on your arms were standing on end as you stepped into the hall. Despite how unbelievably bright the lighting was, the place was incredibly eery, already giving off an uncomfortable vibe that made your skin crawl. You could hear the faint sounds of heart monitors, respirators, the gentle buzz of the lights, and the muffled beeps of pagers and intercom voices flowing through the open area, yet somehow your heartbeat seemed loudest in your ears. Even your bare feet against the smooth, chilled surface of the polished floors made barely a sound, but it was hard to focus on anything else but the noises you were making. 

Behind you, the door you'd entered shut with a resolute click, disappearing from sight just before you could catch a glimps of it. There was sure to be a way out, but not before completing the task of finding your memories, however many there may have been scattered around the place. 

Moving further down the hall, you began to hear more typical sounds of a hospital, though you had yet to see any people. In fact, it looked as if everyone who had been there had just...vanished into thin air. There were clipboards and papers scattered about the floor, empty wheelchairs and I.V. stands with bags of saline still hooked to them. There were signs all around that people were there, or at least had been quite recently, but not a single soul was around except you. 

Ahead, there was a nurse's station, and even it looked like the people behind it had just up and left. More stacks of important looking paperwork, nametags and visitors badges littered the area as you stepped behind the large crescent shaped desk sectioned off by frosted glass dividers. There was even a half-eaten sandwhich off to the side as well as several cups of coffee placed at each computer station that barely looked over an hour old. 

Where had everyone gone? 

You scanned the station briefly, finding that some of the computers were still on and in hybernate mode. It felt invasive of you, but there was a possibility of a clue somewhere within the organized chaos of the station. You needed to be quick if you wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, and boy, did you ever. You couldn't quite understand the feeling you had at that moment, but it most resembled the feeling of being watched from afar, as if there were eyes on you from all around. It was unsettling enough to kick your actions into high gear. 

You searched the paperwork first, and it was just that - a bunch of paperwork on incoming patients, release documents, updated information and safety regulations, all of which meant nothing as far as progress went. Your attention then shifted to the computers. After shaking the mouse of the closest one to you, it revealed a report on one of the patients, a Rupert Dupree in room 516, whose pain medication was, according to the time schedule and the last sign-off, way past due. 

Moving on to the next computer, you found yet another chart on the screen for a patient transferal for two floors down as well as several open tabs for at least three more patients on that floor, nothing of which seemed important. The next computer's monitor was covered by a piece of paper, a scrawl of handwriting across the surface having caught your attention. 

_Five for blood, five for circumstance. Find them, or forget._

Wide-eyed, you pulled the piece of paper from the monitor, scanning over the words again. Five for blood, five for circumstance. Blood and circumstance? You didn't understand what those words implied at the moment, but the numbers had to mean there were ten roses hidden around the hospital. It was just a matter of finding them. 

When you looked back up, you had to do a double-take at the monitor. Though it showed the screen was off, made clear by the lack of lights illuminating the bottom edge, the screen was, indeed, on and attempting to show something. There was a dark static marring the image, however, only allowing a flicker of color to show here and there. The longer you watched, the more it looked like there were words trying to pop up, though you couldn't make them out. 

Hesitantly, you reached out for the mouse, giving it a little shake. It did nothing to clear the static. Thinking on your feet, you reached for the thin monitor and gave it a few taps on the sides. Without warning, the static finally cleared, showing blaring, bright red letters on a black background. 

Your breath caught in your throat at the message. 

LET THE GAME BEGIN

"Shit," you muttered, stepping back from the monitor and nearly tripping over one of the desk chairs in your haste to move away from the threatening text popping at you from the screen. 

He knew. Damnit, he knew you were there somehow, which meant he could be anywhere within the hospital, watching you from afar. 

A strangely loud buzzing sound from above suddenly startled you even more, and before you could figure out what it was, the lights overhead gave a surge of insane brightness before going out completely, as well as anything using a source of electricity. 

Darkness surrounded you like a blanket, though it provided no form of comfort. The first dredges of panic were beginning to sink in as you crouched in the darkness and made yourself as small as possible. The dark didn't scare you, but the possibility of something being there, of something or _someone_ lurking within the surrounding blackness was a subconscious fear you'd kept from childhood. This time, however, you were more than sure there was someone there, just waiting for the right opportunity to catch you at your most vulnerable. 

Let the game begin? Well, this was a good fucking way to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the kudos and such lovely comments!
> 
> As always, I'll see ya around in the next chapter!


	4. Piece By Piece

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks? Yeah, well...sorry about that! Went on a little mini vacation with my Mom (which was awesome!) and completely skipped over my post day. So I decided to hold off another week. Hope it was worth the wait!

Back-up generators were a godsend. When they finally kicked in, the emergency lighting was immediate in flickering on throughout the facility, creating enough illumination in the hospital for you to see everything relatively easily. It wasn't near as bright as before, and there would definitely be darker areas, but it was enough for the traversing you would be doing from here on out. It was better than wandering around in the dark with a flashlight like some of the games you'd seen Mark play. 

You waited a bit longer in your huddled position, looking around and listening carefully. The sounds of hospital life had stopped with the power surge, creating a quiet atmosphere that nearly made your ears ring. If not for the hum of whatever backup electricity currently flowing through the place, you would have already started going mad just because of the silence. 

Exhaling shakily, you stood to your full height, eyes scanning the area for signs of, well, anything out of the ordinary in an already messed-up environment. The facility looked completely different with this form of lighting, more creepy and almost run-down due to everything that was left behind by those who had seemingly vanished. It was every bit the horror movie set-up; all the place needed now was a couple of undead hellspawn with chainsaws and a desire to kill, and it would have the potential for being a box office hit. 

Except this wasn't a movie, and you had a feeling that anything that happened here would have a drastic effect on you after you woke up. Even if you were wrong, you didn't want to test the theory directly. 

Okay, (Y/N), you could do this, just breathe, think. 

Now that you could see more clearly, the main dilemma was deciding on which way to go. Thanks to the small bit of information you skimmed through on the computers, you were aware of at least five floors to the hospital with the possibility of more. There had to be hundreds of rooms to look through, and with needing to find only ten roses, the task was beginning to look a bit on the daunting side. It made you all the more suspicious as to what was in store for you along the way. 

"Alright, I should just...start from the first room," you muttered to yourself, more for the reassurance of hearing your own voice than attempting to break the silence. You glanced down the halls at the plaque numbers beside the closest doors and began following the right trail at a careful pace. It would be easier to remember which rooms you'd already gone through by following ascending numbers, and maybe somewhere along the way there would be another clue as to where exactly you needed to go. 

This particular hallway seemed to have only ten rooms down the length of it before reaching a dead-end, the copper plated plaque on the side of the last door reading _501_ , the first room of the fifth floor. 

You entered the room, slowly peeking through the door before giving it the chance to open completely, finding it just as empty as everything else on that floor, if not moreso. The room was very pristine, having no signs of a previous patient, which made the area easier to search. Unfortunately, it also meant there was nothing else to help you along. No roses, no clues. Nothing. 

The next four rooms looked about the same, way too clean, nicely dressed hospital beds, a vase of decorative flowers on the bedside table, and a general lack of arrows pointing you in the right direction. 

Room 506 was different. The bedsheets were crumpled, and the bed itself was at an incline, a sure sign that a patient had been occupying the room at some point before your arrival. There wasn't much else, save for a chart hooked to the bed's end railing, an I.V. drip with some sort of medication hanging from the stand's hook, and...oh! There was a shoulder bag on the floor. 

You crossed the room to the far corner where the bag was located by a big plush chair. It was a moderately sized bag, dark blue in color with the front decorated in bursting neon swirls and dots. It was relatively light, but there was definitely some crinkling coming from within. Curious, you opened the button keeping the two sides closed together, pulling the material apart and finding a folded piece of paper. 

"Instructions on where to go, maybe?" you wondered aloud, removing the piece of paper and unfolding it to read the scribbled writing. 

_The hand that feeds isn't always gentle. Only you decide the end. First floor, room 108._

Okay, so there was that. You still didn't understand the last note's meaning, and this one was even more cryptic and just plain confusing. This time, though, you at least had a clue as to where you needed to go. 

For a moment, you debated on leaving the bag, but an idea came to mind. The roses...you'd have to carry them, with the possibility of losing some if things got too hectic later on. The bag looked spacious enough to hold quite a few things, so you were sure there would be plenty of room to hold the roses, as well, without too much damage done to them. 

With a nod to your own thoughts, you pulled the strap of the bag over your head, letting it rest on your shoulder as it hung at a diagonal over your front. You then refolded the paper before pushing it to the bottom of the bag, your hand grazing something else as you did so. Shifting your hand slightly, you wrapped your fingers around smooth plastic and cold metal, pulling the object out to reveal what looked like a bluetooth headset. It was more of a single earpiece with a hook that secured itself around the wearer's ear, something you'd seen many people use in their busy lives. Attached to it was a tiny sliver of paper with the words _'Try Me'_ written across it. 

Confused, you removed the tag and adjusted the device to your ear, pressing the small button on the outside. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, your own heartbeat sounding much louder in your ear now that it was covered. A sudden whirring sound had you jumping in place, just before a voice took over the other end in the middle of a rant. 

_"-fucking ridiculous. I can't see a damn thing when she's not in the halls! Damnit, what's taking her so long this time?"_

"M-Mark?" you questioned with a gasp, a smile coming to your lips as your eyes began to sting with the threat of tears at his familiar, frustrated baritone. It wasn't anything like the _other_ Mark's voice; there was no malice or sadistic twist in his timbre, no threatening undertone lining his words. He sounded irritated and confused, like one of his games decided not to cooperate during a recording, and, oh, how you were familiar with that sound. 

There was another short bought of silence, save for the strange whirring noises coming from the other end of the earpiece every few seconds, but Mark -oh, it was Mark!- eventually answered, his tone now that of relief. 

_"(Y/N), is that you? Oh, thank God, I thought something bad was happening in there! Wait, how are we communicating right now? What did you do?"_

"I don't know, I...I found this bluetooth earpiece in a bag with a note. I don't know how, but it's working, and now I'm talking to you...is it really you?" 

There was a small chuckle from his end, one that had your heart tightening in your chest at the sheer comfort it brought you. How had you been coping before this moment? How had any of this been okay without him being there with you? 

_"Yeah...yeah, it's me. I'm right here, okay? I don't know how this is working, either, but it is, so we're gonna just go with it for as long as we can. Are you alright?"_

You gave a nod and a sniffle before giving an almost amused, verbal answer. 

"Yeah, I'm...I'm okay. Can you see me? Where are you?" 

_"I'm locked in some room with all these monitors; they're showing a security feed to the hospital, but the cameras don't show anything in the patient rooms. I've been watching you since you found the nurse's station...and, wow, that didn't come off as creepy in any way."_

"No, of course not," you played along, finding that you were smiling again despite yourself. Even Mark was able to manage a chuckle at his own messed up wording. At least you had solved that unsettling feeling of being watched from earlier. 

_"In all seriousness, though, what the hell is going on?"_

Your mood changed with the question as you debated for a moment whether or not you should tell him the truth, that you were dreaming, stuck inside your own mind playing some messed-up game with your memories on the line. Oh, and the host was some dark, psychotic version of Mark, himself. Even you thought it was crazy, hearing it in your head as you put everything together. No one in their right mind would believe such a thing. 

_"You went quiet. Why? Why with the quiet?"_

"You won't believe me." 

_"Do you actually know why we're here?"_

"Not...precisely, but I know enough." 

_"C'mon, then! Out with it, buttercup!"_

"It's a game, or something," you began with a sigh, adjusting the bag over your shoulder as you made for the door. "I'm supposed to find these roses that...well, they hold my memories. And if I don't find them, then...then I lose them forever." 

_"Roses? Why roses?"_

Of all the things he chose to ask about, it was the roses? 

"I don't know, my mind just found it easier to organize things that way, I guess. Listen, it's confusing; I know about as much as you do. It sounds stupid, possibly crazy, but Mark, you have to believe me." 

You stopped before the seventh door in that particular hallway, looking up to the ceiling until you spotted the little inconspicuous black sphere that held one of many cameras recording your movements, allowing Mark to see you. 

"I don't want to forget anymore." 

Mark gave a muttered curse on the other end of the earpiece, his voice gentle and understanding as he spoke to you. 

_"You won't. We'll...we'll get this all figured out. Just do what you gotta do while I try to make myself useful from here, okay?"_

You gave a small shake of your head and a faint smile, turning your attention back to the door and continuing on as you had been doing, this time with the assurance of Mark's voice in your ear as he watched over you via the cameras. 

The rest of the rooms in that hallway held nothing else useful, save for the last one. There were a pair of plain white tennis shoes in an overnight bag that just so happened to fit, the size a bit bigger than your usual, but doable. It was better to be prepared for anything, and protecting your feet was a priority you couldn't pass up any longer. 

Once again, you found yourself at the nurse's station with barely anything to show for it, save for a few items to benefit you in the long run as well as the light noise of whirring and muffled curses from the earpiece. 

"Any luck?" you asked after a long stretch of nothing but the sound of frustrated whines and clicking keys. 

_"Barely. I mean, this isn't necessarily videogame logic, here, so I can't just press a button and magically....oh my God, are you kidding me? Seriously?!"_

"What, what happened?" 

_"Whelp, apparently I was wrong. I'm such a dingus! You even said it yourself; this is a game, no matter how messed up the current situation. It's literally got all the setups of a videogame, as far as using the system's computer goes."_

"That's a good thing, right?" 

_"Of course it's a good thing! I can pull up map layouts to all floors of the hospital and guide you through it. There's also...oh, wait, hold on...hm. Hey, check out room 518 real quick, but be careful. I have a hunch."_

"Gotcha," you agreed, moving down the closest hallway to your right until you came across the correct room number. The door was slightly ajar, something of which had you hesitating for a fraction of a second before slowly pushing the door open the rest of the way. It was another room that had been previously occupied by a patient, and whoever it was had quite a number of visitors before they all vanished. 

There were bags everywhere, from purses to overnight suitcases and even some gift bags with brightly colored ribbons decorating the handles. There were helium-filled balloons scattered about the ceiling, their strings dangling down and brushing your face as you maneuvered around all the items in the floor. They had been celebrating something, possibly a birthday, by the looks of things. 

_"You're really close, now. Look around, see if you can find anything that looks important."_

"Mark, there's literally a bunch of stuff everywhere in this room. What exactly am I supposed to be-" 

You paused mid-sentence, your eyes catching a soft, almost golden glow from one of the gift bags that had been placed on the bed. A bit eagerly, you reached for the bag, pulling out multicolored tissue paper until you came across a dark, amber colored rose in full bloom. 

_"Hey, you found it! What is it?_

"It's one of the roses," you murmured almost excitedly, carefully pulling the flower from its paper confines and staring down into the illuminated petals. Instantly, the memory began to play, taking you back to a day long ago in your childhood to an older, well-kept house with a front porch and a picket fence, nothing but lovely country fields and several paint horses surrounding it. There was a porch swing set up in front of one of the large windows with an old man lounging on it, a glass of sweet tea in one hand and that morning's paper in the other. 

**_Grandpa Tucker_** the voice in your head supplied, the whispered tone more of a comfort to you now, and you laughed aloud at how the name made you smile. 

_"What is it, the memory? What do you see?"_

"It's a memory of my Grandpa Tucker," you explained as the memory continued to show your six-year-old self coming out of the house with your own plastic cup of sweet tea to sit beside the elder man, a bright smile lighting his face as he scooted over a bit to give you more room. He was over ten years gone from this world, but you would always remember him as the kind, hard-working man that he was, a man who sometimes looked hard as stone but never met a stranger in his life. He would have loved Mark. 

"How did you know where to look?" 

_"This map that I'm able to pull up has some sort of infrared mode, and when I switch over to it, these little blips pop up on the screen. I had a feeling they were the roses, though that's my videogame logic coming into play, here. When you found it, the little blip disappeared."_

"Oh, that's perfect! I won't have to search every nook and cranny of every room," you commented while carefully placing the memory inside your newly acquired bag, being extra careful not to rustle the petals too much. 

_"Yeah! Only weird thing about it is when I'm in this mode, I can't see you, so I'll have to constantly switch between the screens. Maybe I can split it onto two separate monitors-"_

You smiled as Mark began to mumble to himself while attempting to maneuver everything how he needed it. The setup was just like back home before a recording, or so you guessed from his small explanations. He was in his element in more than one way, which was an added relief. It wouldn't be as difficult traversing the hospital now, nor would you have to worry about missing any of the roses along your way. As long as you had Mark, you'd be able to make it through this. 

_"I think I got it,"_ he called out a moment later, his voice holding a hint of pride. _"Alright, next room is 522, and that's all of 'em on this floor. Head back and then go straight across. It should be on the right."_

You followed Mark's direction to the designated room of which was clean and neat. It took a moment, but you were able to pinpoint the glow of the rose hidden amongst the faux decorative bouquet on the table beside the bed. This time, the petals were white with the slightest tint of orange. The memory that played was yet another one from your childhood, though it was an event you couldn't quite recall fully until it played out all the way. 

It depicted a group of teens of which you had no correlation with, all carrying to-go boxes from the restaurant they had just exited. Your childlike self was with your parents, looking on as the group laughed and joked with each other while they passed a dirty looking man sitting on the curb with his dog. The man paid them no mind, nor did it seem like the group spared him even a passing glance. That is, until one of the guys in the group pulled away briefly and stood directly before the man, handing over one of two styrofoam boxes he'd been carrying. 

Even at your young age, you'd known the man was homeless and knew that many tended to avoid or ignore those who held such a title. But to see the teen hand over his leftovers to someone who possibly hadn't had a proper meal in days, even weeks, made you smile almost goofily. You didn't get to see the rest of the exchange properly as your young self was being led elsewhere, but you did get to see the man open the box to find not leftovers, but a full blown meal that would satisfy his and his dog's hunger for the night. 

"I remember this, now," you spoke softly. "It's one of the things that stuck with me, my want and need to give back to others. I'd never witnessed such a kind act as that in person before-" 

**_Five for circumstance._**

Oh...oh! Now it was beginning to make sense, the note you found at the nurse's station! Five for blood, five for circumstance. Five memories of family members, and five memories of influential circumstances, of times that stuck with you and molded you into the person you had become. At least you knew what the memories held. There was still the mystery of why you were set to find these particular memories, but you'd figure that out later. 

You placed the rose beside the first within your shoulder bag as you made your way back into the hall. You looked around a moment, aware that even though you were technically by yourself, the hospital didn't seem as creepy as it did before, even if part of you still felt there was something off about the whole place. You could blame it on having adjusted to your surroundings, but it was more thanks to the goofball currently babbling things to himself on the other side of the earpiece. You were by yourself, but you were most certainly not alone. 

Two memories down, eight more to go. 

"Alright, Mark, where to next?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! And thank you for all the kudos and comments!
> 
> See ya around in the next chapter!


	5. When Fear Takes Form

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got my muse back, and got this baby finished up! Pretty proud of myself on this one!
> 
> The build up on this piece is alot slower than I initially intended, but it's all gonna be worth it in the end.

The stairwell was much darker than you had anticipated, and it was enough of a difference in lighting to have you pause at the doorway. The elevators were out of order, thanks to whatever power surge had occured with your arrival, but even if they had been in working condition, you still would have chosen the stairs. You'd seen one too many bad horror flicks where the elevator scene never turned out in the character's favor, and you weren't about to become that stereotype, stuck between floors or having the cables snap unexpectedly to drop you to your demise. 

But the darkness you needed to brave in order to reach the fourth floor was creating a mild problem for you. Just as when the whole place had went dark not too long ago, you were thrust back to your younger years and the fear of the things that could see you in the pitch blackness, that followed your every move with intense calculation. No place to hide. No place to _hide_.... 

_"What's up?"_ Mark sounded in your ear as you gave a small huff. 

"It's, ah...a bit darker than I expected, is all. Trying not to psych myself out, 'cause it's the only way down." 

Mark knew of this little fear from long ago, and while you both joked about it on occassion, and honestly, it hadn't bothered you in so long...it was hard to process why now, of all times, the feeling of unknown terror came rushing back to you. 

_"Just take it easy. Nice and slow. We're in no hurry, unless we actually are-"_

"No, no, you're right. Nice and slow," you repeated, taking a few deep breaths before taking your first step down. You kept a hand against the wall and a tight grip on the strap of your shoulder bag of which had a faint glow peaking out from the slightly parted opening at the top. It was enough to be easily seen in the darkness, but the glow from the roses wasn't strong enough to light your way. It did hold a strange sort of comfort to have even the smallest bit of illumination, however, and in no time, you were carefully stepping your way onto the fourth floor and releasing a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. 

The layout was somewhat different to that of the fifth floor, the area surrounding the nurse's station more open and the hallways connected to it a bit shorter with fewer rooms. You had a feeling the spaciousness had something to do with the sign that indicated 'Intensive Care Unit' near the elevators, but it didn't quite give reason to the sudden, roiling feeling within your gut. Something about this floor felt...off, and not particularly in a good way. 

_"What's up, buttercup?"_ Mark quipped once more from your ear, the tap of the keyboard as he worked the camera feed echoing in the background. 

"I don't know," you answered quietly, because really, you didn't. Everything was going so smoothly, even with only generators lighting the hospital as well as your few moments of panic in the dark. You'd already found two roses, thanks to Mark, and if things continued the way they did, you'd be out of the place in no time and one step closer to ending this unfortunate game. 

So why did it feel like something bad was about to happen? 

"I can't shake this feeling," you confessed a moment later in a hushed tone while making your way toward the nurse's station, a focal point that was easy to navigate around when Mark gave directions. It was just like the other had been, overrun by paperwork and the occassional cup of half-consumed coffee. 

"It's...I don't know. I'm just antsy, probably. Where to, first?" 

Mark hesitated for only a moment before leading you in the direction of one of the roses, most likely put off by your dismissal, but knowing things needed to keep moving along. The room you found your way to was actually a 'staff only' section of which was stocked full of extra blankets, cleaning supplies, hospital gowns, gloves and the like. You found the rose, a dusty orange color, on the top shelf next to a stacked pile of plastic basins. It took a moment, but a small bit of ingenuity on your part and a large pile of blankets later, you were able to reach the glowing flower. 

The memory was brief, and it was a hard lesson you had learned back in junior high. It was a memory of a time your best friend turned on you in a moment of panic to save herself. She'd done nothing to defend you in that time, and had, instead, jumped the bandwagon to ridicule you, pushed herself higher on the popularity pole while you were crammed deeper and deeper into the mud by her words and actions. But despite that, you'd forgiven her, because you'd been taught to forgive, even when it was hard to. But that moment had also taught you something else: trust was a hard thing to come by, and an even harder thing to keep. 

You made it back to the nurse's station, only this time, you noticed something had been smeared along the floor. It had a strange shine to it, and it was ink black and looked sticky, almost like tar. Mark noticed it about the same time as you did through the cameras, as he made a strange noise from the other end of the earpiece. 

_"What is that gunk? It wasn't there before, was it?"_

"No...no, I would have noticed it," you murmured, staring at the messy black smears with apprehension. It was just as you were going to speak again that you heard a faint noise, the sound strange and forcing your heart to skip a bit. It was a disgusting sound, whatever it was, almost similar to the squelch of wet shoes or the way mud suctioned to heavy objects when trying to pull them free. 

_"(Y/N), hey, what's wrong? Hey, can you hear me? What's going on?"_

You were too focused on the sound to answer, the way it lingered in the air, drug against the walls in a strange, grungy echo. Footsteps. They were footsteps, or shuffles, slithers with a tittering pattern, you weren't sure. What you did know was that it was moving. Whatever it was, it was _moving_ \- and making the weirdest, hi-pitched clicking sounds, the short but steady ticks of which created even more of an echo, enough for Mark to pick up on his end. 

_"What the fuck was that?!"_

"Something's here," you whispered, panicked, as a chill ran down your spine and your stomach tied in knots. You had hoped everything would stay the same; no people, no big obstacles, just Mark telling you where to go as you collected your memories. What started out as a simple hunt-and-find was now dipping dangerously into the horror genre, and while you had made light of the situation resembling that of certain movies and videogames before, you didn't think it was actually going to turn out that way. Oh, how wrong you had been, so very, very wrong. 

_"Jesus, (Y/N), don't go anywhere! Let me find it, let me just-"_

Mark became quiet for all of ten seconds before a startled intake of breath had your heart hammering even louder in your chest. 

_"Oh, shitbees...what the diddly-fuck is that supposed to be?!"_

His words had you give your own sharp inhalation at the fright and confusion laced in his voice. You had no idea what he was seeing, but it was blantantly obvious it wasn't good. This was something you should have expected from the beginning, you realized, and part of you had. Yet the start of this insane dream had lulled you into a false sense of security, made even more comfortable by Mark's presence watching over you despite the unsettling atmosphere of it all. Because of that, you were unprepared for the horrors that awaited you the deeper you dove into this madness. 

"M-Mark-" you barely managed to get out in a panicked croak before multiple things occured all at once, starting with Mark's fearful shouting in your ear. At the same time, you were just aware of a few other things, such as the clicking suddenly turning into high-pitched wailing of some kind that had you wincing at the painful sound. The squelching, mud-sucking steps -yes, definitely steps- were now getting closer at a quick pace, and they were coming not only from your right, but also from in front of you. 

There were two of them, you realized with horror, and they were quickly making their way toward you. 

Mark's shouting was going on frantic at this point, and you were finally able to snap out of your fear-induced trance to his panicked yells of "Run, get out of there!" Unfortunately, your ability to process the situation was a moment too late, and as you turned to take his advice and make a run for it, you were met by the sight of thin, spindly limbs carrying a figure splotched with ink-black into the only space you had to get free. 

The creature itself was a horrifying thing to witness move, especially when its movements were coming directly toward you. Its limbs, six of them, if you included the legs, were long and bent at odd angles, similar to that of a spider's own, and with each stuttering move forward, its steps created that strange sucking noise, leaving behind a sticky spread of blackness against the floor that had your stomach churning uncomfortably. It reminded you briefly of some effects you'd seen from horror movies, yet you'd never been scared of such things, never even contemplated the likelihood of ever seeing such terrifying elements in person until now. 

The thing towered over you as it stopped with little room between, its large, pale eyes giving off a silvery shimmer in the backup lighting as it looked directly at you. It took all of your willpower to keep as still as possible, to keep what little breaths you took small and quiet in hopes of keeping it, whatever it was, unprovoked. Even Mark had gone silent in your ear, perhaps afraid that his words would be heard and would do just that, provoke the creature into harming you. 

The creature looked away with a series of soft, gnarled gurgles, giving the area to your right the same once-over before doing the same to your left, a few echoing clicks leaving its dripping, black-smeared mouth in the process. When it looked to you again, you came to the sudden realization that the thing wasn't really _looking_ at you at all. In fact, if you didn't know any better, you'd go so far as to say it wasn't even aware of you being directly in front of it, its haunting gaze, instead, vacantly looking right through you. 

_**'Blind,'**_ the helpful voice in your head supplied as the monstrous creature before you turned away to the right once again and took a few sticky steps in that direction. Blind, then. It was blind, meaning if you were very careful, very quiet, you could sneak past it while its attention was elsewhere. But the fear of making any abrupt sounds and alerting the thing of your position kept you firmly planted in place, your wide eyes watching it carefully for any sudden changes in its demeanor. Running would not be wise, but it would be better to make a break for it if there were any signs of things going wrong then waiting around to be pulverized. 

So paranoid with the monstrosity before you, you completely forgot about there being another one close by until it gave one of those high-pitched wails from beside you across the counter of the nurse's station, forcing a terrified gasp from you as you made to cover your ears. The one keeping you rooted to your spot turned and gave a screech of its own, your heart near-stopping at the prospect of having been caught. Instead, the creature rushed past you, quickly following its wailing partner away from the station and off to God-knew-where. 

You listened to their clicks and wails, listened to each sucking step they took away from you until there was little to no noise at all. Even still, you remained quiet for a bit longer, breaths heavy with terrified relief and legs trembling something fierce until you could no longer hold yourself up. That uncomfortable feeling in your stomach intensified, so suddenly, in fact, that you were fumbling for the small trashcan hidden beneath the counter-like desk and retching over it for a good solid minute until there was nothing left for your body to expel. Mark spoke soon after, his voice wavering with his words of apology. 

_"I'm so sorry, I...I don't know where the hell they came from, that they were that fast. I didn't even realize...God, damnit, are you okay?"_

"They're blind," you blurted out in a huff of air, still trying to get yourself together, to stop your harsh breathing and shaking limbs. If you were honest, you weren't entirely sure you could answer his question with enough conviction to make him believe that, yes, you were just fine when all you wanted to do was wake up from this impossible nightmare. 

"They can't see me. Whatever they are, they can't...they can't see anything! That one, it just...looked right through me, like I wasn't...wasn't even...." 

You were beginning to hyperventilate, on the very edge of breaking down and becoming a breathless, sobbing mess. Mark could hear it in your words, could most likely see it through the camera feed in the way your body heaved with every stuttering breath, how your hands shook as he instructed you lift your arms over your head and take big, deep breaths, in and out, in and out, just like that. 

_"You gotta stay calm, okay? Stay with me, (Y/N)."_

"I'm here," you panted after a moment, reigning in your nerves a bit as you continued to breathe deeply through your nose. "I'm here." 

Your words were every bit an answer to his worries as they were grounding to yourself. You were here, you were alive and well and most definitely in a state of panic, but you would endure. You had to get through this thing, this obstacle of a dream that was already and very quickly testing the limits of your sanity. 

Hands still shaking, you lifted yourself up with the help of the desk's edge, finding that your legs, though a bit unsteady, weren't as affected by your nerves as before. You wiped at your mouth, spitting one last time into the trashcan to rid yourself of the lingering taste of bile as best you could, and gave one last deep breath, resolute in its finality. 

"I'm here, and I can do this. I _have_ to do this, whether I wanted to in the beginning or not. Besides, it's not like I'm in this alone, right?" 

_"Of course not,"_ Mark answered, his tone lighting up a bit at your sudden burst of confidence. _"I'm always with you. Well, maybe technically not right there beside you, at least not at the moment, but...yeah, you get the point."_

You gave the barest hint of a smile despite yourself, clenching and unclenching your hands to rid yourself of any lingering shaking. You took a few steps forward to test just how steady your movements actually were, carefully avoiding the trails of sticky black tar that covered the floor. Satisfied with the control you had over your body once more, you looked up into one of the cameras and gave a nod. 

"Alright, you big goober, where's the next rose?" 

Mark led you to another room down one of the halls that connected back to the nurse's station, thankfully on the opposite end of where the retreating creatures had run off. Down this hall, you were able to find not one, but two roses, both of which dealt with circumstance. That meant there were only five roses left, one for circumstance, the other four being family members. You still weren't sure what the purpose of this game was, or if there was even a point to it at all besides messing with your head. Was that the only purpose, in the end? Was this game only a means of breaking you down to the lowest point, or was there something else at play? 

_"Alright, we got all of them on this floor. Next one is on the second floor. The path back to the stairwell looks clear, but I'll keep an eye out for those gnarly sons of bitches, just in case."_

With the okay from Mark to keep moving, you traveled back the way you came, keeping your eyes and unoccupied ear open for any sign of the monsters. It didn't look like there were any new trails along the floors around the nurse's station, meaning they hadn't backtracked since you'd gone the opposite direction. You weren't able to hear any of their noises either, no shrieking or clicks or tacky, squelching sounds coming from anywhere. 

The silence was both relieving and disconcerting. 

_"You're practically home free! Still no sight of them."_

"Where did they go?" you wondered aloud, finding their sudden disappearance more alarming than it should have been. Knowing there were some sort of creatures lurking around didn't feel quite as stressful as having them completely disappear into thin air with no other traces of them, save for the tar tracks that were left behind. 

_"Where did they-? I think you should be more worried about the roses right now, especially since you're halfway to finding them all."_

"I know, and I am, but...don't you think it's a little bit weird how they suddenly just-" 

You stopped abruptly in your explanation, your eyes having caught movement from the other side of the nurse's station just as you passed behind one of the walls sectioning it off. You stopped in your tracks, relaying what your eyes had just seen for a moment before slowly edging your way to the other side of the wall blocking your view. 

There was a figure standing there on the opposite end. It wasn't anything like the monsters from before; no, this was more human in form, the posture more relaxed and familiar. Your heart nearly stopped in its tracks just as your knees began to wobble dangerously, as if they would give out at any moment. You knew that frame, knew the slightly spiked hairstyle and faux leather jacket and the barest glint of a pocket watch chain at his hip. The way he leaned casually to his left as his hands were stuffed in his pockets. No way, there was just no way it could be.... 

"J-Jinx?" 

_"What? What's wrong, what do you see? (Y/N)?"_

You ignored Mark's questions as you spoke out again with a crack in your voice, this time catching the figure's attention. It turned to look over its shoulder, revealing bright green eyes and a toothy smile that had your head spinning. You knew that face, had dreamed about it incessantly for months in horrendous nightmares fueled by the knowledge that it would never see the light of day again, that _he_ would never see the light of day again. 

Already, you were moving forward, your steps hurried as you attempted to rush to the other side. Your momentum was thwarted, however, as soon as your foot unknowingly made contact with the viscous blackness that covered the floor. Your world's point of view shifted drastically as you grasped at the closest objects to you, only bringing them crashing down alongside you with the sounds of loud thunks and sharp, shattering ceramics bouncing off the walls. 

Your eyes were bleary and edged with darkness as you struggled to lift yourself from your sudden horizontal position. Your limbs felt heavy, and there was a sharp ringing in your ears that didn't quite make sense to you. Vaguely, you were aware of Mark shouting something or other, his voice muffled, but your focus was on the retreating figure moving down one of the hallways. It was him, you knew it. It was _him,_ and you couldn't do anything to stop him from moving away, from leaving you yet again. 

"No, please-" 

_"-us Christ, you have to move! (Y/N), please, they're coming! Get up, get out of there!"_

All at once, your senses came rushing back to you, and you were aware of a number of things. The blackness around your eyesight had disappeared, as well as the disorientation of having fallen. The side of your head as well as your right shoulder ached something fierce, and that piercing shrieking in the distance was getting louder and louder.... 

"Shit," you cursed as you struggled to stand, once again slipping in the black ooze on your way into an upright position before finally able to shift away from the mess and stand on your own. You were covered in the sticky black tar now, your clothes an utter mess, but you didn't have time to worry about that now. From across the way, one of the creatures from before made its appearance, giving off several clicking sounds as well as an ear-splitting screech as it made its way toward you. 

_**Run,**_ the voice in your head supplied as Mark continued shouting similar help, and as fast as your barley steady legs could take you, you took off to the left down the hallway that lead into the surgery ward of the ICU. The shrieking stopped momentarily with your sudden movement, though it was a temporary hault. The noise started back up and gained in volume as the creature followed you down the corridor, the echo of its partner not far behind. 

Up ahead, the hall split to the right and left, one way leading to more rooms, the other into the operating area. Without thinking, you followed the way to the operating station, crying out as one of the creatures lunged and just barely caught the side of your face with one of its clawed hands. You stumbled a moment, but you were able to regain your speed more quickly than the monsters chasing you, both of which were caught off-guard by the branching corridor and collided into the wall. 

You were lucky they couldn't see, and you were even luckier that you now had some ground on them. In your haste ro distance yourself further, however, you barely noticed the double doors sectioning off the operating room required a special access pass to open them, only registering your folly of a choice when you rammed right into their unmoving frames. 

"No...no, no, no! Please, no!" 

You pushed against them again and again with no such luck, crying out in frustration and pain as you rammed into them from the side and jarred your injured shoulder. Mark continued to encourage your efforts, his voice panicked and near hysteric, but it was all in vain. The shrieking was getting louder again, and there was nowhere else for you to run, no where to hide. 

The game was over, and you'd barely begun. 

"Mark," you all but whispered as the creatures found their way to you, advancing rapidly, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" 

The shrieking was drowned out momentarily by the sharp whir of a buzz from behind, and before you had time to register what was happening, you were being forcefully pulled backward just as the creatures made to lunge for you once more. Your legs gave out under the unexpected action, and this time, when you collapsed to the ground, your whole world went blissfully, alarmingly dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the kudos and lovely comments! Your support means the world to me, it really does.
> 
> As always, see ya around in the next chapter!


	6. Similar Disorientation (You Do Not Understand)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you guys thought this was dead.
> 
> Don't worry, I did, too.
> 
> But fear not! I still have so much more in store, and though my updating is very, _very_ wonky, this WILL continue.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! It can only get worse from here....

_“Can…me? (Y/N)….”_

_“…please, just…sign, wake….”_

_"Just….me, please (Y/N)…okay?_ (Y/N), C’mon, please, wake up!” 

Your eyes fluttered open, and a wave of disorientation and confusion clouded your senses as your vision tried to come into focus. You were staring at a white wall…no, wait, that was the ceiling, and there was a blurry outline of someone hovering over you. Whoever it was, they were talking to you, their words sounding distorted for just a second longer. 

“Fuck…(Y/N), sweetheart, can you hear me?” 

You blinked a few times, vision clearing now that you were more aware of your surroundings. The blurry figure above you came into focus, revealing dark, floofy hair and watery brown eyes looking down at you with such a helpless, relieved expression. Oh, Mark was…why was he looking at you like that? 

“Yeah…yes, I…wha-what’s going on?” 

“It’s okay, you’re fine,” he said, his voice low as a hand reached out to cup your face, his thumb running over your cheek. He gave a low, hollow chuckle as he quickly swiped at his eyes. “You’re alright. Fuck, you’re alright.” 

“What’s going on?” you asked as you attempted to raise yourself up to a sitting position, crying out at the sudden pull of pain in your right arm and shoulder. It wasn’t unbearably painful, just startling and unexpected. It surprised Mark even more, who was quick to move behind you and help sit you up with gentle, guiding hands along your back. You were then met with the sight of the dishwasher and stove on either side of you. 

“Why am I in the kitchen?” 

“You were looking for a mug, I think,” he answered almost carefully, and though you couldn’t see his face, you could tell he was still trying to control his emotions just by the waver of his voice. “You said something about making tea while I was setting up to record, and…then you called my name, and there was a crash, and…fuck, you scared me!” 

You looked around the kitchen space, finding the evidence of your favorite coffee mug now in broken pieces scattered along the floor. The overhead cabinet you retrieved it from was still open, and some of the things along the counter space below it had shifted, as if you had tried to stop your descent by trying, and failing, to grab onto the smooth granite surface. 

Mark was leaning his head heavily against the middle of your shoulder blades and a loose arm wound about your waist as he took in several deep breaths. He had been terrified, probably still was, and you couldn’t blame him. This was the second time he had found you like that, sprawled out on the floor and unconscious, injured to some extent. As an afterthought, you reached up to the neat row of stitching along your forehead with your uninjured arm, thankful that those were still intact. 

“Did you slip or something? Lose your balance?” Mark asked after another minute of slow, calculated breaths, arm tightening around your middle just a fraction. You placed your hands over the limb as a means to comfort him further. He’d need it after your answer. 

“I can’t remember.” 

“That’s okay, that’s fine,” he said in a rush, kissing the back of your head. He didn’t understand. 

“No, Mark, I can’t…I don’t _remember_ this. _Any_ of this. The last thing I can recall is falling asleep with you on the couch, and then I wake up in the kitchen with no memory of how I even got here in the first place-“ 

“We didn’t sleep on the couch last night,” Mark spoke slowly as he shifted to sit in front of you, concerned eyes now looking downright scared as he looked you over. You were scared, too. 

“What day is it?” he asked, taking hold of your hand. 

“It’s Tuesday, right?” you answered with a questioning lilt, the tightening of his hand against yours and the firm set of his jaw telling you all you needed to know. 

“Mark?” 

“I think we need to call the doctor.” 

 

It was Friday, you learned after a long, tense drive to the hospital where you desperately tried to remember what had happened before waking up in the kitchen. 

You remember watching movies on the couch, falling asleep with Mark’s arms around you, and then…that same feeling of unease you had that first night you were home from the hospital, after having that dream that eluded you, yet filled you with anxious energy. You hadn’t been able to tell at first, what with Mark’s worried hovering and your own disorientation, but you definitely had that same feeling of apprehension and fear with no memory of a dream…and no memory of how three more days had gone by. 

Your doctor was worried there may have been further damage to your brain than they initially thought. More x-rays, another CAT scan and MRI, blood work, the whole nine yards was recommended, and then promptly carried out. Your afternoon was filled with test after test, and the quicker evaluations had come up inconclusive or showing no signs that any further damage or lingering side effects from your first fall were present. 

You didn’t appear to have a concussion from this fall, either. Your arm and shoulder were badly bruised, but no fractures or breaks were present, just a dull ache that would last a week or two. The only thing your doctor could do presently was extend your prescription of pain pills from your previous visit for another refill, as well as make sure there was someone with you at all times until your other tests came back. 

Mark was quick to assure him you wouldn’t leave his sight and thanked him for seeing you on such short notice. When you made it back to the car, the sun had just begun its descent over the horizon. By the time you made it home, the sky was mostly dark, the city scape looking more lively in the distance. Inside the apartment, the atmosphere was tense. You almost wished you could go back outside, just to stare out at the city lights and escape the discomfort of the apartment. 

“You should get some sleep,” Mark murmured wearily, a small smile touching his lips as he ran his hand down your arm in a soothing motion. His eyes, always so expressive, betrayed the calm demeanor he presented to you. 

“I’m not tired,” you lied, immediately having to hold back a yawn. Truthfully, you were exhausted, but the idea of sleeping had you on edge. What if you woke up again, and a week had passed you by? What if you had that dream again, the one you couldn’t remember, save for the lingering shadow of fear it seemed to leave behind? 

Mark gave you a disbelieving look, sighing as his gaze wandered elsewhere. He looked haggard and worn down, his hair more of a mess than usual due to the amount of times his hands had been through it, and the subtle lines around his eyes more pronounced. He was just as exhausted as you were. 

“I’ll go, if you come with me,” you relented, having those solemn brown eyes cast in your direction again. His smile was more genuine this time as he gave a short nod. 

“Alright. Let me get us some water. I’ll meet you upstairs.” 

You gave your own nod, reaching up to place a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth before making your way up the spiral staircase. You could feel his eyes watching you, assuring you had made the short trek upward without any incident before he moved into the kitchen. 

Once in the bedroom, you started your nightly routine. Change into sleep clothes, brush your teeth, brush your hair, clean your head injury, all while careful not to bump your injured arm against anything. Your shoulder pulled uncomfortably any time you raised your arm up, but it was easy to work around, easy to ignore the dull ache of it. 

You were in the process of pulling back the covers when Mark finally joined you, two bottles of water in-hand and his hand clenched before him. When he passed over one of the bottles to you, he unfurled his fingers to present you with a single yellow pill. 

“What’s this?” 

“It’s one of your pain pills,” he answered as you picked it up to look it over. “I know you might not hurt much now, but the second day is usually the worst. Figured it be good to take one now, so maybe you won’t be so sore in the morning.” 

You nodded as you studied the pill a little longer. You didn’t remember them being yellow. Then again, you hadn’t needed one since coming home from the hospital the first time Sunday evening, so you hadn’t really looked at them. Without another thought, you swallowed the pill with a few swigs of water, Mark looking relieved that you did so. 

“There we go. Now, let’s get our butts to bed, yeah?” 

You smiled as you placed your bottle of water on your bedside table before climbing onto the comfortable pillow top mattress, Mark taking a moment to change clothes and brush his teeth. He took a moment longer to turn out all the lights before finally joining you under the covers, carefully wrapping an arm around your waist as you shuffled closer. 

You stayed like that for some time, content to have him with you as you fought off sleep. It was getting harder and harder to do so as the minutes ticked by, and already you could feel the pull of slumber on your weary mind. 

“Hey.” 

You looked up at Mark slowly as he looked down at you, a serene sort of smile gracing his lips. He reached up to brush your hair back, continuing the motion for several long moments. 

“I love you,” he whispered, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss against your hairline. You could feel your stomach lurch with the admittance, even in your nearly half-asleep state, though you weren’t panicked as you were the last time. It didn’t mean, however, you felt any less angry with yourself for not being able to reciprocate the words. 

“I…Mark, I-” 

“I know,” he hushed you, arm once more moving around your middle to pull you just a fraction closer. “I know.” 

As the darkness of slumber finally took hold of you, you couldn’t help but feel his assuring words had sounded somewhat hollow. 

 

You awoke with a shout, sitting straight up and letting out a wobbling, pained sound upon realizing that doing so was the wrong move to make. You hurt everywhere, especially on your right side, and you felt sticky and sick to your stomach and just overall like you were having a bad time. Your head was pounding something fierce within your skull, and the shrieking wasn’t helping it any. 

The…the shrieking? 

Opening your somewhat bleary eyes, you looked down at your shaking form, finding your clothes and parts of your skin covered in sticky black tar. Around you were off-white walls and a room with two wide glass doors to your left, half concealed by a curtain, the other half showing a patient’s room all in disarray. 

Were you back in the hospital again? 

There was the main entrance door in front of you, as well, where the shrieking and angry pounding against metal was emanating from and creating most of your panic. You remembered suddenly that you were in one of the wards of the ICU, having narrowly escaped your death in the dream verse. 

You were back in _that_ hospital again. 

Well, shit. 

On instinct, you shuffled backwards even further away from the door until your back hit against an overturned hospital bed, cringing and curling in on yourself as a particularly hard hit was made against the one thing keeping you safe from those horrible creatures trying their hardest to get to you. 

They were relentless for a few minutes, continuously ramming into the door and letting out high-pitched whines and angry clicks, all the while keeping you on edge and praying for them to just leave you alone. Thankfully, by whatever graces above, the wretched things had either finally grown bored of their hunt or heard something else in the distance and decided to move on, leaving behind a few dents in the thick metal door and a deafening silence that made your panting breaths and the beating of your heart sound excruciatingly loud. 

With a disbelieving chuckle, you leaned back heavily against the bed, taking in deep, steadying breaths to calm yourself. 

This nightmare had taken a harsh turn rather quickly, and you weren’t helping it by being clumsy. Those things had almost gotten to you, would have killed you, most likely, had things gone in their favor. Would your death have just erased your memory, or would it have completely shut down your body, ultimately killing you in reality? If the door hadn’t opened, if you hadn’t been pulled inside…. 

How on earth had you been pulled inside? 

You looked around you once more for some sort of sign, realizing quickly that the quiet was much more unsettling than before. It kind of reminded you of how things had been after the lights went out, right before you found the earpiece where Mark…. 

You reached up a hand and pressed it against the ear you had placed the piece into, your palm meeting no resistance as it pushed against warm cartilage. No wonder it was so damn quiet, you had somehow lost the earpiece, as well as Mark’s guiding voice. The comfort of his presence was gone, as was his help in finding the rest of your scattered memories. 

It had to be around here somewhere, right? It couldn’t have just disappeared like that. Then again, this _was_ a dream. Stranger things had happened, though it didn’t mean it wasn’t any less upsetting to have the one good thing in this fucked up world inside your head vanish without a trace. 

_**Help him.**_

You startled at the voice spontaneously echoing in your head, looking around frantically for the source. You had forgotten momentarily that it was the one only you could hear, a friendly and encouraging persona that had been helpful thus far and was once again providing guidance. Whoever or whatever it was, the voice wanted you to succeed in finding your memories. It seemed that way, at least. Maybe it knew what had happened to the earpiece? 

“Help him?” you repeated quietly, looking around you yet again as if you’d see someone else within your line of vision. A spark of unease made your already queasy stomach churn even more, and for a moment, you began thinking the worst. 

“Is…is Mark in trouble?” 

The bed against your back gave an unexpectedly sharp jolt backwards, forcing you to whirl around and scramble away from the jarring motion. It gave another jump, the metal along the side scraping against the ground as it moved. There was a low murmur that followed, sort of muffled, that sounded suspiciously like a pained groan. 

You pressed your lips together tightly, closing your eyes a moment as you debated whether or not to call out. You were sure those…whatever those things were couldn’t get in, but what if there was something else in here that wanted to kill you? 

_**He needs you.**_

Shit, okay, that was a good sign, right? The voice in your head hadn’t led you astray so far. You weren’t counting the time it led you into the room holding your memory core. That was an inevitability, you were certain. 

You were going crazy, weren’t you? 

“H-hello? Anyone there? M-Mark?” you called out carefully, eyes darting to each glass door that you could now see of three other rooms further into the ward before landing back on the upturned bed. There was a long lapse of silence that followed your words. You were about to call out again, just a bit louder this time, when the muffled sound from before started up again, a hum of a deep voice that now sounded familiar. 

Wide-eyed, you shuffled forward on hands and knees back to the hospital bed, fingers curling around the top edge as you pulled yourself up enough to look over and below. Sitting there, back uncomfortably pressed against the metal frame and hands bound together to the side railing by police cuffs, was a dark, short haired man, the style slightly spiked down the middle. He must have heard you from above, because he had turned his head to look up, warm brown eyes behind squared glasses looking momentarily startled, then relieved at seeing you. 

”M-Mark! Mark, oh my God!” 

You couldn’t get to the other side fast enough, nearly tripping in your slightly too-big shoes as you hurried next to him, looking him over with a worried gaze. 

Only one hand was cuffed to the bedframe, not both like you had previously thought. He was gripping the chain linked to the second cuff rather tightly, and his wrist looked pretty messed up, bloody and bruised as if he’d tried countless times to free himself by pulling on it. He was dressed in dark jeans and a black graphic tee, and across his face was a dirty looking surgeon’s mask smudged with dark red splotches you were hoping weren’t from him. 

He was definitely Mark, but…he wasn’t the Mark you knew now. This Mark was younger, at least by three years, judging on his appearance. He must have been a projection of your memories, of a Mark you knew before your relationship with the big goober. He wasn’t real; technically, none of this was, in the end. 

It didn’t make it hurt any less seeing him in such a state, and it didn’t mean you could just leave him like this. He was still Mark, whether projected as younger or not, and you cared so very deeply for the man. 

“Jesus, Mark, how…how did you get here from the security room? I thought you were locked in.” 

He answered with a sort of muffled murmur while giving a shake of his head. If he was speaking, you didn’t understand anything he was saying. The mask…it was probably messing up his words, distorting them somehow. 

You reached out toward him, fingers just barely grazing the fabric before Mark cried out in alarm, violently yanking on his chained wrist and pulling his face away from you with a smothered cry. You jerked back at the defensive movement with a shout of your own, terrified that you had somehow scared him. You were covered in sticky gunk, as it was and probably disheveled beyond all comprehension. No wonder he was scared. 

“I’m sorry! I was just trying to help you with the mask-“ 

Mark gave another shake of his head, eyes pleading with you to leave it be. He gave a low, flittering hum, the sound resembling that of words, but he refused to speak. Or, maybe, he couldn’t. 

“What happened to you? You can’t…you were talking just fine not long ago. How long was I out in this place? What the _fuck_ is even going on, anymore?!” 

You felt tears prickling behind your eyes, but held them back as best you could, pressing the heels of your hands against them to reduce the sting. This whole thing was ridiculous! Nothing was making any sense to you, and your constant state of distress wasn’t helping you in figuring out what that dark, sinister version of Mark wanted from you, from all of _this_ that you were being put through. 

Mark must have sensed your inner turmoil, as he let out a low, lilting hum, this time. Your name. He was trying to say your name, the syllables in the sound giving it away. 

You glanced up at the man, finding that he looked equal parts angry and upset as he gave a hard stare to his clenched fist, the one holding tight to the chain connecting him to the bed frame. He then gave a heavy sigh through his nose, gazing at you in defeat as he slowly reached out his arm and opened his hand. 

In the middle of his palm sat the small, plastic protected earpiece you had been so worried about losing only minutes ago. You didn’t need it anymore, not when you had him right in front of you. He seemed adamant on you taking it, however, giving a nod toward the device and reaching out just a tad further. 

Confused, you picked up the earpiece, holding it in your hand hesitantly. Mark then mimed for you to place it back on your ear, giving a small nod of encouragement as you slowly replaced the device where you had it last. There was a moment of static, short bursts of whirring sound, and then- 

_“-way from him!”_

That…was Mark? You stared at the man before you, his eyes averted from your doe-eyed gaze as you tried to make sense of what the hell was happening. There was no way…was this some kind of trick? 

“Mark, wha-?” 

_“Fuck, please, listen to me! It’s not me. He’s not me, (Y/N)! Get away from him!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! And thank you for your continued support! Let me know what you think of this chapter!
> 
> As always, see ya in the next chapter!


	7. Influence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, look at this! I'm being productive! 
> 
> Honestly, I was totally looking forward to this chapter since first coming up with the idea for this fic. You guys don't even know, oh my word.
> 
> Also, I have a tumblr now!! Nothing special yet, since I just got it up, but if you feel like it, give me a follow, and feel free to give me a chat: sethrine.tumblr.com
> 
> I am bad at links, do forgive me.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, on to the chapter!

You shuffled away from the Mark sat before you, body moving instinctually at the fear laced in the voice of the Mark in your ear. The Mark before you looked up at your hurried movement away from him, eyes expressing defeat and such a look of despair that you couldn’t help the pang in your chest, even if you now had some reason to fear him. You were horribly conflicted, and terribly confused. 

“What…I don’t…Mark?” 

You weren’t sure who you were questioning, only that you just wish you understood. Was this another part of this stupid fucking game you were stuck in? A ‘Which Mark is the real Mark?’ scenario was not something you wanted to partake in. 

Mark -the voice in your ear- seemed much calmer after you shuffled further from the younger version of himself chained to the hospital bed, his sigh of relief both comforting and worrying. 

_“Are you alright? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”_

“N-no, he didn’t do anything. I’m okay,” you stuttered out, unable to take your eyes off the younger man before you. He didn’t look like someone who would be any danger to you, like Mark was making his doppelganger out to be. He just looked so damn sad, and scared, and utterly accepting of the fact that you had scuttled away like he was ready to take you down. He just didn’t look like he was capable of anything bad, and for a brief moment, you wondered if that was his ploy. If it was, he was a damn good actor, because that look on his face was devastating you. 

_“Oh, thank God! I didn’t know what the hell happened! Had to reroute some things just to see into the ICU wards. How are the roses?”_

You gave a startled gasp at the mention of your memories, reaching for the bag around you and peering inside. All three roses were present, surprisingly still intact and not crushed by your harsh, sometimes impromptu movements. A moment of relief flooded your system. 

“They’re fine. All present and accounted for.” 

_“Good. You need to get out of there as soon as possible while we have a window of opportunity. That door doesn’t look like it can be opened again from the damage those things did to it.”_

“But, what do I do about-?” 

_“Do your best to ignore him, okay? Try to find a way out of that ward without alerting those freaky bastards on the other side, if you can.”_

“Just leave him here?” you questioned, finding yourself conflicted once more by Mark’s easy dismissal of his younger counterpart. It seemed rather cruel to leave him behind like that, hurt and trapped without a way to defend himself if something were to attack. Mark sighed, understanding your hesitation. 

_“He’s not me, (Y/N). We don’t know why he’s chained up there, and we can’t exactly trust that he won’t come after you or sabotage your progress if we found some way to free him. There’s too many variables that we can’t count on.”_

“I suppose you’re right,” you lamented quietly as Mark continued. 

_“We can’t risk it, not if we want to save your memories. And, personally, I find it creepy as hell that he looks like me from, like, three years ago.”_

His tone was a little more amused, an attempt at lightening up the mood. It would have worked in any other situation, but you just couldn’t work up even a fake smile to acknowledge his efforts. Another sigh from the earpiece, a couple seconds of light tapping from a keyboard following after. 

_“There’s another doorway in that ward that leads out into the halls. It’s actually closer to another set of stairs, and there's a rose near it, but you’ll have to bypass them to get to the other one. Luckily, I don’t see those monsters anywhere in sight. You should get going while you have the chance.”_

You nodded as you finally stood, legs a bit unsteady and heart pounding anxiously in your chest. Younger Mark refused to look at you, even when you took a hesitant step towards him in some vain attempt to get his attention. For what, you weren’t sure. It didn’t matter in the long run; he knew you weren’t going to help him. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said quietly, hands holding tight to the strap of your bag, your face twisting into a pained expression. You took several steps back, taking a moment to look over the disheartened man who refused to watch you leave. Why did it feel like your heart was breaking? 

_“(Y/N), you have to go,”_ Mark urged gently, and you finally forced yourself to turn away and move down the short distance to the longer hallway of large patient rooms lining either side of the corridor. 

That was that. You needed to find a way out before anything else decided to hunt you down. As much as it perturbed you to do so, you needed to push younger Mark to the back of your mind. There were other matters to attend to, and you couldn’t risk the possibility of slipping up or losing your progress. You still had seven more roses to find. 

You continued down the impossibly long corridor, coming to a momentary stop where it branched out to a nurse’s station with several sinks on either side. The sight was familiar, as you had visited a friend and a couple of family members who had stayed in the ICU before. The ward was strict on clean hands by both employees and visitors, you remembered, but with good reason. 

Continuing on, you gave furtive glances inside each of the rooms, finding some were pristinely kept while others looked like a tornado had passed through them. Some had monitors flickering beside overturned beds, and there was one point you had to traverse through a wide puddle of water, as one of the toilets within the room had sprung a leak. 

The next branch out was similar to the one you had been pulled into, just a short hall of maybe four rooms, but without the door at the end. This particular ward looked like it acted as a double-unit, your assumption being correct upon finding yet another nurse’s station even further down the corridor. You’d never seen one, before, nor were you certain the ICU wards were supposed to be set up like that. 

The corridor ended soon enough, with that similar short hallway and door to your right. You took a deep breath, readying yourself for whatever lay ahead. 

_“Wait, hold on!”_

“What’s wrong?” you questioned, believing the shrieking creatures were heading your way once more. Your stomach lurched at the thought. 

_“Nothing. Well, I say nothing. There’s a rose extremely close to where you are, but the room it’s in looks like it’s closed off or something. It’s to your left, in that little alcove. Is there anything there?”_

You turned to your left, the wall there indented a few feet inward to create a small recess, big enough to fit several people within. In the middle was a door, it’s dark appearance and metal framework making it out to be important and extremely off limits to anyone not employed. Hell, it looked like it would be off limits to even the nurses. It was a little intimidating, honestly. 

“There’s a door there.” 

_“Oh! That’s great! Can you open it?”_

“I can give it a try,” you answered, words a bit uncertain as you moved to stand before the door, reaching for the handle. You gave it a twist and a firm push, but the door refused to budge even a little. That’s when you noticed the slot just to the side, a small red light blinking every few seconds above the short protrusion. 

“It’s not opening. I think it needs a key card or something.” 

_“Damnit! That might be the only way in.”_

“I’ll check the nurse’s stations, see if I can find anything. There’s gotta be a card around here somewhere.” 

_“Good idea. I’ll see if I can find anything from the cameras and continue keeping tabs on those freaky sons-a-bitches.”_

You gave a firm nod of affirmation before backtracking to the closest nurse’s station, immediately setting about the task of searching the drawers and desk spaces for any sort of access card that could possibly help you out. The drawers were filled with files, notebooks, business cards, and the like, but nothing that looked useful in opening that door. You made sure to look in every space possible before continuing to the next station. 

On your way back, you had to trek through the water again, tensing as the slick surface of the floor caused your foot to slide off to the side a fraction. Luckily, you were able to catch yourself before you fell, eyes roaming over the room the leak was coming from. 

The leaky toilet was at the very back of the patient room, partially hidden by a privacy curtain. It looked like the toilet had been bashed in, and a fine sheen of water was spraying out from the damaged area. The room itself was one of the messy ones, with bed sheets strewn about as well as a few piles of scrubs and gowns. There was even a security uniform thrown haphazardly on the end railing, the badge glinting in the dim lighting. 

You stared at the uniform for a long moment, wheels turning in your head. 

“Hey, Mark? Security guards, they’d have access to most places in the building, wouldn’t they?” 

_“I’d think so, yeah. Why, did you find something?”_

“Maybe,” you answered, carefully moving into the room to the bed. You shuffled through the uniform, finding pens, an empty gun holster clipped to the still-attached belt, and a wallet. Pulling out the worn looking leather, you opened it, sifting through the cards within, but finding nothing useful. You then searched the back pockets, following a line of springy plastic that was clipped to a belt loop, and found a card attached to the end of it. There were a bunch of numbers and letters along it, a bunch of nonsense that didn’t make sense to you, as well as the words ‘Security Access’ written in small print along the top. 

“Found something! Maybe it’ll work on the door.” 

Mark made a pleased remark as you unclipped the string and clipped it to the strap of your bag, holding tight to the card. You then carefully trekked through the water again and hurried back down the corridor to the looming obstacle keeping your from yet another memory. 

“Please, let this work,” you murmured to no one in particular, sliding the card in and out of the slot. The little red light flickered once more before turning a bright green. When you tried the handle again and pushed on the door, it opened without any hindrance. You let out a long breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding before tucking the card into a side pocket on the bag and stepping inside. 

The room was darker than the rest of the hospital, with no other lighting besides a small fixture against the back wall, the glow a dusty yellow that flickered and barely illuminated the area. There was a desk in the middle with a computer screen, keyboard, and mouse atop it, and a brass nameplate reading _Dr. E. Jameson_ displayed at the edge of the flat surface. There were a few degrees hanging from the wall, and in the further two corners sat faux fern plants. Everything was pristine and perfect, with no other objects or doors in sight. 

The whole thing was rather underwhelming to have such an elaborate key card lock on it. It was also eerie, though you blamed that on the lighting giving off more shadow than actual illumination. 

_“I can’t see inside the room, but the rose should be right there in the middle.”_

“I can barely see, myself,” you commented as you neared the desk, moving to the back and pulling out the leather chair that had been neatly tucked in, settling into the comfortable seat. You looked on either side of the desk, finding one side had two drawers, a small top one, and a deeper bottom one, where the other only contained a smaller one. There was also a thin drawer right above the leg opening to the desk with a small gold lock in the middle. You wiggled the drawer, just in case, but the lock held it in place. You had a good idea what was inside. 

You opened one of the small drawers on the side, finding a very nicely stacked pile of papers within, not one page even remotely out of place. Even the two pens beside the stack were placed just so, both caps turned the same way. The small drawer on the other side looked just the same, too-neat stack of papers and a stapler perfectly placed within. 

“Whoever this Dr. Jameson may have been, I can tell you he was most likely a neat freak, with possible OCD,” you muttered with a shudder. It was unnatural for things to be so organized and exact like they were. Nothing was ever this orderly. The key card was starting to make sense. 

_“Maybe he just liked a tidy space,”_ Mark supplied. You gave a light, scoffing sound as you reached for the second drawer, this one bigger. 

“No one is this tidy. _No one._ It’s weirding me out.” 

Upon opening the deeper bottom drawer , you weren’t surprised to find half the contents chronologically organized with dividers. Behind them, pushed all the way to the back and almost unnoticeable, was a cherry wood box, brilliantly polished and engraved with the doctor’s name in lovely, curving, gold-colored font. 

You pulled the wooden top up, its small plated hinges creaking just the slightest, to reveal an engraved fountain pen nestled in the middle. Upon looking closer, there was just the slightest glint of something else within the box, pushed between the rich black velvet lining and the wood. Curious, you pulled out the pen and pulled back the lining, revealing a small gold key. 

This was really starting to feel like a video game, now. Find all the keys, unlock all the locks, just to find one memory. You just hoped the pattern didn’t repeat itself, otherwise the already tedious task of wandering through the hospital was going to become exponentially more annoying and difficult. 

“I swear, if that rose isn’t in here, I’m going to take great pleasure in flipping this desk,” you muttered, grabbing the small key and unlocking the thin drawer before you. Sat delicately in the middle, nearly too big for the drawer, was a vibrant yellow rose, it’s gentle illumination brighter and more calming than the creepy light fixture behind you. 

When you picked it up, the memory began playing, depicting your Uncle Vincent on the news, his face covered in stubble and ash and eyes red from smoke. He was part of the volunteer fire department, had been for years and still was to this day. You remembered this particular day happening a week before your high school graduation, the fire that had taken over nearly half an apartment complex. It was an awful accident, and two lives had been lost in the blaze, something that had devastated him. 

He’d been interviewed later that evening after the fire had been put out and was asked how, even in such horrible situations and through the biggest infernos, he managed to continue going back. His answer was simple. 

_“They’re people, they’re in trouble, and I’m going to help them. Whether it’s my job or not, whether they’re different races or gender, possible criminals or addicts, dead, alive, or barely breathing, I’m going to help them. It’s not in me to leave someone behind, and I’ll keep going back until they’re all out, or the fire decides to take me, too. No one left behind.”_

You tucked the memory away in your bag with the others, sighing as the words of your uncle played over and over again in your head. He was a good man, and he inspired you from a young age to help others, no matter who they were or where they were at in their life. 

You shifted in the leather chair, hands on the arm rests as you readied yourself to stand, when a small glimmer caught your eye from within the thin drawer. Curious, you pulled at the compartment until it was as far as it would come out, and with the force of your pull, the object slid into view, small and shiny with a few small indents and prongs at the end of it. 

A tiny, silver key. 

_**Could fit the lock on his cuffs, don’t you think?**_

Your whole body tensed as the voice inside your head brought forth the image of the younger Mark you left behind, so helpless and scared and upset that you were leaving, that you had _left_ him there as if he deserved his fate. But Mark had made valid points, was worried about your safety as well as your progression through the hospital. But it just didn’t feel right to- 

_“Is everything okay? You’ve been quiet for a long time.”_

Mark effectively pulled you out of your thoughts, eyes blinking a few times. You’d been staring at the key the whole time, a cold reminder of the final decision you’d made, thanks to his input. If Mark hadn’t been telling you these things, however…if you had no other influence, other than the pull of your heart, would you have really left the younger Mark behind? 

“Yeah, I was just thinking, is all. I know this might not matter much anymore, so bare with me, but how…how did I get into this ICU ward, again?” 

_“I wish I knew,”_ Mark replied heavily, giving off a sigh of his own. _“Scared the shit out of me when the doors opened and you just…you were yanked inside. And I couldn’t see a damn thing for a long time. When I finally figured out how to view inside the wards, you were up against that bed, with that other me on the other side. Jesus, I thought for a moment, he was going to hurt you or something, or already had.”_

There was a short burst of silence before Mark let out a frustrated sound. 

_“(Y/N), no-“_

“He is the only other living thing in this ward, besides myself. No one else could have pulled me in. He was scared, and alone, and- God, I just left him there!” 

_“Listen, I know you’re having issues with the fact that he looks like me, but he’s not, okay? He’s not me!”_

“Yes he fucking is!” you shouted suddenly, your voice echoing off the darkly colored walls. Mark became silent at your outburst, and it took you a moment to gather your wits, to will the lump in your throat away before continuing, much quieter this time. 

“He _is_ you, Mark. I could see it when he looked at me, I can…I can feel it. He’s not you, but he is. Maybe he’s just a memory of who you once were, but he’s still real, and damnit, I’m not…I won’t….” 

Your hands clenched into fists at the wash of emotion overtaking you. You stood abruptly, the chair rolling back and hitting the wall as you grabbed the small key and ran out the door, determined to set things right. Mark was calling to you, urging you to just turn back, leave the ward, forget about _him,_ but you couldn’t make yourself do it again. You rushed passed the nurse’s stations, nearly slipping once more in the mess of water from that one room, stumbling when you rounded the final corner, all in your haste to get to younger Mark quicker. 

The identical, younger copy of your boyfriend looked up in surprise at your re-emergence, taking in your wild features and watery eyes. He hadn’t moved at all since you left him, not that he had far to go. 

Briefly, your eyes wandered the space between the overturned bed he was attached to and the heavily dented door you’d been pulled through, finding scuff marks along the previously smooth surface. He didn’t have far to go, but he could get there. It was no wonder his wrist was so heavily damaged. 

“You saved me, didn’t you?” you asked breathily, “You pulled me in before those things could get me.” 

He looked up at you with wide eyes, nodding his head almost hesitantly. You moved closer and knelt down beside him, ignoring Mark in your ear who was pleading for you to get away from him. Why was he so afraid of his doppelganger? 

“I think it’s my turn to save you,” you said as you held up the small key, his eyes latching on to the glinting metal before staring back at you in wonder. 

“I’m so sorry,” you followed up, an echo of the last words you had given him before venturing off, though the reflection of the words held a different meaning, this time. 

Without another moment to spare, you reached for his cuffed wrist, careful not to tug on any of the injuries that seemed fresh as you maneuvered his hand. Once locating the lock, you tried the key and gave it a twist. There was a small clicking sound before the cuff gave way, opening up and releasing his wrist. 

Immediately, his hands shot out at you and pulled you forward, and in that moment, part of you wondered if this truly was a mistake. Mark had been right this whole time; this younger version of himself was going to hurt you, possibly maim you and kill you, all because you decided you weren’t going to leave him behind- 

His arms wrapped around you tightly, nearly crushing your body against his, and for a minute, he held that position. Then, you heard it, the quiet sniffling, and you could feel the way his arms trembled and his shoulders shook and the warm, wet feeling against the side of your neck as he pressed closer still. 

He was crying. 

“Oh, no, please! Please, don’t,” you started, arms wrapping around him as his shaking got stronger, his sniffling louder and the low hum of his voice, unable to produce words, lolling as if he were trying to speak. 

You were doing what you could to calm him, rubbing your hands down his back and letting him know you were there for him, but the whole thing was getting to you. Whenever Mark was moved to tears, so were you. It was the emotional connection you had to him, the sensitivity of your own emotional state, and his gentle, quiet sobbing was unraveling your resolve quickly. 

“P-please,” you managed to get out, finding your throat getting tight and your watering eyes on the very edge of spilling over. “I can’t…I can’t….” 

He pulled back suddenly, hands coming up to cup your face and forehead resting against yours. His glasses were speckled with tears, and the mask along the bottom half of his face was wet from the tracks. His eyes were just on the verge of becoming red, but he didn’t look upset in the slightest. He looked exuberantly happy, and relieved, and completely thrilled to be holding you like he was. 

The floodgates opened up easily after that, and it was you, this time, clutching tightly to him. 

“I shouldn’t…I sh-shouldn't have left you like that,” you stuttered, letting out a sob as he gently wiped away your tears with his thumbs smoothing against your cheeks. He still had tears of his own, but he had calmed considerably, now doing his best to comfort you. Even if he was a younger version of Mark, his compassion was still there, had always been there from the beginning. He always put others before himself, and God, did it make you appreciate this man more and more. 

Younger Mark provided gentle hums and muffled cooing sounds as you lamented your poor decisions, as you let out your frustration and fear and confusion, all of which had been ready to boil over at any given moment. When your own tears had calmed, he continued to hold you in place, hands moving to stroke your hair as you both stared at each other for a long stretch of time. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized once more. “I won’t do that again, I promise.” 

Mark leaned in just a tad closer, nose bumping against yours in a silent gesture of understanding. He knew you wouldn’t leave him behind, not after you came back for him like you had. You couldn’t help but giggle a little, and though you couldn’t see it, you could tell he was smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so very much for your continued support and lovely comments! I'm so thrilled to be back writing this for you guys.
> 
> As always, I'll see ya in the next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for giving this a read! Let me know what you guys think!
> 
> As always, see ya around in the next chapter!


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